We searched around us, finding our packs and wands. Ruth Anne’s wand had cracked in two. She wrapped it with duct tape she pulled from her bag, which she assured us got her out of more messes than we could imagine. It was slightly crooked, but she insisted it was only for show anyway.
“Maggie, look,” Merry said, beckoning me over to the collapsed staircase. It was the statue of Leah, turned to stone.
“Is she dead?” I asked, trying to listen for a heartbeat.
“Yes,” Ruth Anne said, joining us. “Buried with her gargoyles.”
I looked down at the stone remains of the sister I had never gotten to know. Had the Fates seen this end for her, or was it all her own doing? I crouched down and whispered goodbye and kissed her cold cheek, because I knew no one else would.
I noticed one of the gargoyle statues was clenching something in its fist. The Star card! The gargoyle must have snatched it from the sky as it fluttered through the air. I kissed the card and slid it beneath Leah.
“Montana’s still okay,” I said, with certainty. “I know we’ll find him.”
“I still can’t see Larinda yet,” Shane said.
“She took him to Armand,” I said with certainty. I could see the dark witch clearly in my mind, understanding her decision. She had lost control of Gahabrien, and so she would barter with my father instead.
Michael nodded. “So, where is Armand?”
“If we can just get away from this area, I’m sure I can find him,” Shane said. “Let’s get to the base of the mountain.”
“Shane’s right,” Ruth Anne said, pulling out one of her devices. “The electromagnetic frequencies here are off the charts!”
“Wait.” In the aftermath of the battle, loose magick was indeed everywhere. It was a primitive, restless kind of night. Larinda’s energy and that of her demon permeated the mountaintop, seeping out of the stone blocks. There was even some residual energy of my father’s in this land. It was the perfect sort of night for calling up a magick circle.
“Let’s put all this wild magick to use and find Montana,” I said. “Ladies, your wands.” My sisters nodded and we lifted our wands. Ruth Anne’s dipped under the weight of the gray tape.
Merry drew a large ring in the rubble and we took our positions at each of the four directions. I needed to see the truth of what the circle would call, not an illusion or trick of the Netherworld. I removed my apple from my pocket and took a large bite, while Ruth Anne paged through Mother’s spell book. She began reading from it, but I hardly heard her words.
My sisters were still with me, but a door appeared between us, slowly spinning within the circle. I knew that door, with its crystal doorknob. It was the same door my father had beckoned me from, back in the Upper World. It creaked open, revealing the flames within, as if in confirmation.
I reached out my hand, recalling the terror I had felt the last time I stood before this door, seeing my father’s face inside. It was like the entrance to hell itself. And I was even more terrified now. The heat coming off of it made my clothes stick to my skin. I looked closer. It wasn’t Armand’s face staring back at me. It was my own.
I gasped and my reflection disappeared. I knew this was different from the others. It was a one-way door to a part of the Netherworld mortals weren’t meant to see - the underbelly. I didn’t have time to think of how frightened I was. I simply turned towards the others and said, “I’m going in.”
And I did.
19
The Moon
I didn’t land in hell, but perhaps it was a subdivision. The others were pulled in behind me onto a vast plain. We didn’t speak much as we collected ourselves, following the only marker in sight, a full moon. A wild moon, Miss Sasha would have said. The kind that brought out the crazy people and the drunks and the fairies.
Shane still couldn’t track Larinda, and my ankh remained stubbornly dark. My frustration grew, but the truth apple had shown me the door, and I felt certain it would lead me to Armand.
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Eve repeatedly asked.
“No, Eve I’m not sure, but I’m open to suggestions,” I said after the umpteenth time. No one had any comments on where we were, or where to go, so we stumbled blindly across the night.
“This isn’t so bad, as long as there’s a full moon,” Paul said.
“Unless there’s werewolves,” Ruth Anne said.
“It’s interesting that it’s so barren here, when the magick is so ripe,” Merry said, sniffing the air. It smelled like iron and old books.
It was unbridled magick, making me feel giddy like champagne. I felt a kinship to this realm.
At last we came to a wide river, still and deep, running endlessly in both directions. We walked along its blue-black water, mesmerized by the reflection of the moon dancing upon it. The prickling sensation of magick energized me like a shot of espresso. It tugged at me, and my body crackled all over. It was the moon and the water and the earth and the air, working together, amplified by the Netherworld. Everything felt heightened.
“Moon lilies!” Merry said, bending to pluck a tiny white flower with gold-dusted edges. “These aren’t supposed to be real.” She put it to her nose. “It smells like… dreams?”
Suddenly, thousands of moon lilies bloomed, setting the bank aglow.
I flung back my arms as I walked, as if being slowed by the wind. But it was magick that pushed on me; it was heady and overpowering and frightening, and I wanted more. My skin crawled, as if wanting to peel away. I understood the allure of werewolves now, being able to shed their human guise and run and howl at the moon with complete abandon.
Unlimited magick was liberating. What could we do if we were able to bottle it up and take it to the Upper World? Just a taste would conjure us anything we desired. I sped through the fields and Merry skipped along beside me. Only Eve seemed immune to the night’s intoxication. She glided along the bank, her sleek hair fanning out behind her. She hummed as she walked, her voice harmonizing with the river.
“We’re never getting out of here.” I laughed out loud. I laughed until my sides hurt. We had passed through yet another portal, and were rewarded with nothing. “And I’m never going to see my son again, either.”
“You are, too,” Shane said adamantly.
I had my doubts. Who was I to march into the Netherworld and demand the return of a stolen child? I was a witch, but I was mortal. I didn’t belong here. I laughed again, so hard I choked.
“Listen,” Merry whispered.
At first there was nothing, but then I heard the far off cadence of women chanting:
Harken witches, hear the tale
Of Goody Kind, thrown down a well
Because she cast a magick spell -
The moon will set her free.
Awaken witches, remember those
Hung by their necks in their Sunday clothes
Because of marks upon their toes -
The moon will set them free.
Listen witches, to what’s been said
Of healers who have lost her heads
To the gallows, now surely all quite dead -
The moon will set them free.
Witches dance and witches fly
Across the moon that lights the sky
We’ll save our magick for the night -
The moon has set us free
“It’s so sad,” Merry said. “But beautiful.”
“Really?” Shane asked, listening with one eye closed. “Because it sounds like broken glass to me.”
Shane was wrong and Merry was right. The song was beautiful. I gathered my skirt and danced along as the song began again. Merry and Eve joined me. We curtsied and twirled, then raised our hands and joined our fingertips together, as if dancing around a maypole. The chant rose higher and higher, filling the night.
“I think only the women can hear it,” Paul said, joining Michael and Shane in their confusion.
Ruth Anne tapped her foot along with th
e music. “It’s encrypted. Only witches can understand it.” She narrowed her eyes. “It’s a nice song, really, although I don’t have the urge to get up and boogie like my sisters do. I’m not sure if it’s a slam against my magick or my femininity.” She shrugged. “Let’s just hope it’s not nefarious. There’s a legend of a witch who used song to get other witches to do her bidding.”
“I know that legend. Hecate was the witch’s name,” Paul said, cringing at an especially high note. “She is known as the Triple Goddess, because she embodies all three aspects of womanhood: Maiden, Mother, and Crone. Hecate predates even Greek culture. It’s said she is one of the few that can cross worlds at will.”
“Hecate?” I asked, ceasing my dance. “I met a woman named Hecate. She gave me the truth apple. She was nice, if a bit mysterious.”
I listened more closely to the song, now certain I heard Hecate’s voice among the chanters. I looked to the moon. Perhaps the door wasn’t meant to lead me to Armand, but to Hecate.
“Stay here,” I whispered to Shane. “I need to go to Hecate.”
“What? Not without me.”
“She’s near, I can sense her.” I reached out my hands, feeling her. It was the pull of the sisterhood. “Please. Trust me.”
“We can’t get separated again, Maggie. Not after all we’ve gone through.”
“Listen, everyone. Please don’t fight me on this. Hecate’s somewhere nearby. She’ll help us. But I need to go alone. I feel it.”
The others nodded. “We’ll be here,” Michael said.
“And please don’t go through anything resembling a door, portal, gate, elevator, escalator…” Ruth Anne added.
“Got it.”
I turned, wading ankle deep in moon lilies, and continued along the riverbank There was a sense of finality as I walked, and I hoped it was an omen of completion rather than of an abrupt ending. The witch’s song grew louder as I walked and I caught myself humming along.
When the song finally ended, I had come to a lonely stone bench in the field of moon lilies. Looking back, I could see the silhouettes of my friends far off near the water. I sat down on the bench, remembering similar ones from the gardens of Dark Root - Mother’s, where only the heartiest flowers grew - Aunt Dora’s, perpetually overflowing with fruits and vegetables - and Uncle Joe’s small plot behind his shop, that we raided in late summer for tomatoes. I might never visit any of those gardens again, I realized. Even if I got out of here, Dark Root was waning, as evidenced by the dying Tree of Life. Magick all over my world might be dying. It was happening slowly, but it was still happening. Without magick, there probably wouldn’t be many gardens.
Had I been called here to plant the Tree, I wondered? Hecate had been the guardian of the original Tree of Life, and had referred to me as the Seed Bringer. I took the acorn from my pocket and rolled it between my palms. I couldn’t mess this up. There was too much at stake. “Jillian, if you’re watching,” I said, “please give me a sign.”
After a disappointed pause, I returned the acorn to my pocket and withdrew the apple. There was hardly a bite left. I set it down on the bench beside me, wondering if I should eat the last of it now, to see if this is where my Tree should be planted.
“You shouldn’t put that beautiful apple on a dirty bench like that.” A lovely young woman with a long chocolate braid shimmered into view. She wore a flowing white gown, edged with golden embroidery. A small tiara sat atop her head. Her eyes were quiet blue and there was a maidenly flush to her cheeks. She pursed her lips as she regarded me. “Hecate would not like to see her gift treated so poorly.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, hastily returning it to my pocket. I didn’t know who she was, but I sensed her importance. “You know Hecate? I came looking for her.”
“I do know her, yes. She graces us with her presence sometimes.” The woman laughed, reminding me of fairy bells. “But you must learn respect before she’ll grant you an audience. Just be glad that it was I who witnessed your rudeness and not my mother. She is quite fond of Hecate and has too much time on her hands. However, had she seen you, perhaps it would have given her new purpose. Walk with me into the garden.”
I stood up, and there was a garden, with tall bushes guarding the entrance. “Can you take me to Hecate, since you know her? I’m trying to find…“
“Quiet, for now please,” the woman said gently. “This is a sacred place – a crossroads of sorts. We are approaching one of the thinnest parts of the veil. Please be reverent.”
We wound inwards through the garden, a dizzying labyrinth overflowing with moon-magick. “I already know your story, Magdalene. We all follow it here.”
“You do?”
“Yes. We have watched your generations - your grandmother, your mother, your sisters, your father. Familial lineage is part of who you are, in the past and in the future. We concede that much here, unlike those in the Upper World who believe destiny is free will.” The woman placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Your family connections are written into the fabric of your fate. You will see how they are linked, once you hear my story. And then we shall speak more of Hecate.”
“Okay” I said, having no other choice. The woman radiated a calm but regal authority. She was magickal, and no mere witch.
“My name is Persephone. I was not born of this world, but of yours. My parents never got along,” she said, slowing her walk. “They separated around the time of my birth. My father was powerful, but he wasn’t satisfied with all he had. He would never be satisfied until both gods and men alike bowed before him. He was a blowhard, and I’m certain Mother would have divorced him, had she not found their arrangement convenient.
“I was caught between their fighting and their egos. My mother was so possessive that I felt trapped. My father was mostly kind to me, although his temper was frightening. When I was hardly more than a girl, he decided to marry me off so he wouldn’t have to worry about my future. And also so he could be rid of my pestering mother. So I was sent to live here.”
“In the garden?”
She laughed and tilted her head, revealing a sleek alabaster neck. “You are funny, Magdalene. I wish you were staying longer. We might be friends.” Persephone waved her hand and everything sparkled around us, as if kissed in moon dust. “There, a little ambiance.”
“Weren’t you furious at being married off?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I was young and had different expectations for my life, it’s true. But there weren’t many opportunities then for women other than marriage. Father didn’t tell me the man was nearly twenty years older than me! And ugly, too. But he insisted he was a good match for me, and without other prospects, I agreed.
“Once I married, I learned why my father had insisted on the union. My new husband was a king and my father wanted an alliance. It wasn’t long before I despised both of them. I was just their tool! My husband would have my oath, but not my heart.” Persephone sighed deeply, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks.
“So you are a queen?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes, but my husband was irritated that he couldn’t impress me with his power or standing, since my own father was also a king. After years of keeping me locked away, my husband made a deal with me. If I spent one night with him, he would let me go free in the morning.
“That evening, we met in his great hall. We ate dinner together at opposite ends of a long table. We were alone, except for a solitary musician, playing romantic melodies. After dessert, my husband stood up, walked over to me, and got down on one knee. And then he sang!”
Persephone looked away, covering her eyes. “It was a song he had composed himself. It was terrible! His voice, the lyrics, it was all so wretched. And that’s when I fell in love with him. Any man willing to humble himself before me in such a way has surely earned my heart.”
“So, everything worked out for you, it seems,” I said, wondering why she chose to share this with me.
“True. But there were other obst
acles thrown in our way. Just as I had begun to find happiness, fate threw in a wild card - my mother.”
“What do you mean? Tell me.”
“Magdalene, we follow your story, as I said. There is much more involved than you can see. There are many players, and the balance is precarious.”
“You’re scaring me,” I admitted. “Are you trying to say I may not find Montana?”
“I am just saying that our connections run deep. It’s not easy to unbind them. While I found happiness here with my husband, my mother became deeply agitated in the Upper World. She scoured the lands, searching for me, leaving devastation in her wake. She threatened to call forth famine if my father wouldn’t tell her where I was. He relented, and she marched down here to demand that Hades release me.”
“You’re married to Hades!?”
“Yes. Hades refused my mother’s request, and once again I was put the middle. I love my mother - she gave me life and is my dearest friend - but I wanted to be with my husband.” Persephone paused, touching her long braid. “Mother is a clever woman. She found her way to me, again and again, disrupting my life, until I finally agreed to visit her. Then she used her magick to ensure that I could only spend three months out of the year in the Netherworld. During the precious time I’m with my husband, Mother paints the Upper World white as a token of her grief. She is finally coming to grips with my arrangement, but swears she cannot undo her spell.”
“You mean winter? Why are you telling me all this?” I asked, confused.
“I am just showing you that family sagas aren’t finished just because you finish a chapter. As long as you are connected, your fates are interwoven. If you save one branch, you save the entire tree.”
Persephone wrapped her braid around her hand. “I know what Hades thinks of your father, and I worry. He claims that Armand is willful, self-serving and reckless. My husband rues the day he ever let Armand in. Now, your father’s alliance with the Dark One has put both our worlds are in jeopardy. I have told you my story so you will find wisdom in it later, and so you will trust me now. I will assist you in gaining passage to Armand, but the day will come when I will need your help in return. You and I have spoken at length, and now we are connected as well. From this moment on, our fates are also intertwined.”
The Shadows of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root Book 5) Page 28
