We raced headlong into the growing fog. Shane held them off for several moments, then sprinted to join us. It wasn’t long before the wolves collected themselves, snarling behind us as they sought an opening between the flashes of Shane’s darting knife.
“We’re gonna need something more than one small knife,” Ruth Anne said, between breaths. “We’ll be overrun in 5…4…”
“Turn right!” Eve called out.
“Why?” Ruth Anne asked.
“I don’t know. Just do it.”
“Do it!” Hecate agreed.
We veered hard-right, as instructed. A wolf moved to flank us. Shane reached out, slashing its leg. The wolf rolled to the ground, disappearing before it hit the earth. Shane regained his feet and quickly rejoined us. “Can’t believe that worked,” he said.
“Go left now!” Eve called out. “I think.”
“Always trust your instincts,” Hecate said “That is why they are given to you.”
More gold eyes closed in around us, blinking through the blanket of fog. Their breath smelled of rotted meat. Shane veered left and right, trying to guard both our flanks at once, brandishing his bloodied knife. A few bolder wolves stretched out their jaws, hoping to catch us off guard.
One of Demeter’s hellhounds suddenly leapt into the midst of the wolves. “No!” Demeter screamed, as her dog disappeared into the blur of fangs and claws.
“Oh, Mother, you can always conjure more of those dogs. You can’t create more of us,” Persephone said.
“Keep going,” Eve cried, now pulling to the fore alongside Hecate. Her eyes were half-closed, as if entranced. A Netherwolf appeared beside me, nipping at my arm, before being driven away by Shane’s knife blade. I snapped my wand in its direction and it yelped.
At last, we cleared the fog and the Netherwolves fell behind.
“My poor baby,” Demeter said, of her missing hound.
“Your baby saved us all,” Shane said. “It stalled the wolves long enough for us to get away.”
“His sacrifice shall not be forgotten,” I said to Demeter.
We were back at the river. It looked different now, like slick oil instead of running water. “This is our destination,” Hecate announced.
I looked around for the mysterious guide. “Where is Nyx? Did we miss her?” There was no sign of anyone, up or down the river.
“The moon still shows a sliver. She will be here,” Persephone promised. “I must go now. Hades does not like me venturing too far from our borders. If he finds out, there will be souls to pay.” She faced me, taking my hand. “Good luck finding your son, Maggie. We will meet again.”
Persephone disappeared before I could thank her. Demeter stepped up before me, adjusting her tilted crown. “I understand the strength of a mother’s love, Maggie. Stay true to your heart. You are more important than you know. You are the Seed Bringer.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll do whatever I can.”
She frowned, looking at my arm. There was a troubled expression on her face. “You have been scratched by a Netherwolf! And yet, you appear fine. You truly are a remarkable witch, Maggie. We will meet again.” And then she, too, disappeared.
Finally, Hecate spoke. “Do not let your seeming importance cloud your judgement in the times ahead. We are all replaceable. The Fates giveth and they can taketh away. And remember, women are the true expression of magick. We are the creators of life. Stay strong. The future of both worlds rests on what you do next.”
She reached into her cloak and drew out a flat clay disk, fastened on a piece of string. She placed it around my neck, and it clanked against the ankh. “My Wheel,” she said. “It will take you to the Dark One’s lair, but the wheel won’t get you out. That, you must do on your own.”
She stepped back and looked us carefully over. “Offices are required in the Upper World, too, and elections will be held soon. Finish your mission and get out quickly. Our worlds need you.” With that, she stamped her staff into the earth and a ribbon of silver lights twinkled above her. Hecate was gone.
“What the hell just happened?” Ruth Anne said, looking around.
I inspected my new medallion. It was a crude piece of work, and felt very old.
“Now what?” Merry asked.
Eve pointed and we saw a long narrow boat approaching, manned by a single standing oarsman. “We go with Nyx,” Eve said.
The boat made no sound as it approached. No waves lapped at the beach. The longboat glided towards us across the inky surface, coming to a smooth stop before us. An unbearably lovely woman with indigo hair and onyx eyes stepped out of the boat, her gown shimmering and provocatively translucent. With every step, her breasts swayed hypnotically beneath the sheer cloth, and her ample hips fought the strain of the dress. The emptiness in her eyes was beautiful rather than frightening. They were the eyes of eternity, seeing both the past and the future.
“I am Nyx,” she said without emotion, as she surveyed us. I couldn’t get angry at Shane for staring. Even I found it hard to look away.
“Sister,” Eve said, stepping forward and extending her hand. “I am Eve.”
“I know who you are,” Nyx said, brushing Eve’s hair with the back of her hand.
“Uh, do they know each other?” Ruth Anne asked me.
If they didn’t, there was at least a mutual understanding. Nyx and Eve faced one another, their palms pressed together, like two beautiful reflections in a mirror. Even their shadows aligned. Moon shadows – from which the midnight dreams of young men everywhere sprang.
Eve turned to us, smiling. “It is set.”
“It is?” Ruth Anne asked.
Eve extended her arm to the boat like she was inviting us into a grand hotel. I shrugged my acceptance, and we all found seats on the simple wood benches. Nyx resumed her position in the stern, then tapped the boat with her oar. It lurched out into the river, and made for the opposite bank. Eve lifted a lantern from the bed of the boat, while Nyx steered us along. The two began to sing.
A canal of stars, we glide upon
Deep into the night,
With only the moon to guide us home
And a speck of candlelight.
Our lovers wait for us at home,
They keep the fires burning,
We are the daughters of the night
We rule until the morning.
It was a beautiful harmony and the stars overhead responded with a shower of bright light.
“Spooky,” Merry whispered behind me. “Or it would be, if this all wasn’t so normal anymore.”
Paul tapped my shoulder. “What’s happening to Eve?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, but I watched her closely the entire boat ride. She seemed so at home here, so in her element. I had never seen my younger sister so poised and certain.
The river undulated like Nyx’s hips. We passed a kaleidoscope of images along the banks as we drifted downstream. The images blurred together; some I recognized, while others were entirely foreign.
“Look, Michael, our old van! Shane, that’s your Uncle Joe’s cafe. And there’s Harvest Home! Miss Sasha’s Magick Shoppe!” In front of her shop, I saw Mother, flashing through the many incarnations in which I had known her – from being in thick brown hair, tumbling to her slim waist, to a more severe version of her high-collared dress and done-up hair. And everything in between and after. The images slid from one to the other, passing through time, all shadows of Dark Root itself.
The pictures continued, becoming dim and tired, and finally quiet. This wasn’t the home I knew. “Is this our future?” I asked. I looked for signs of familiarity. “What happened to us?”
Nyx put her finger to her lips. “Hush, Magdalene. Sleep now. Morning comes.”
I was floating.
I dreamed of nothing. I was, at last, at peace.
20
The Sun
In the world between worlds there is a door.
I had no memory of arriving at the door. I o
nly remembered Nyx lulling me to sleep. But here I was before it, and it was taller than I ever imagined. There was nothingness above our heads and below our feet. The only light came from the door itself, and it raged like a bonfire on a lonely road. We stared at it, none of us speaking. This was our last door.
I reached for the handle, and the radiating heat singed my hand before I could touch it.
“Wait!” Shane grabbed my wrist. “Let me.”
“Your time for chivalry will come later,” I said. “
“Hold on, Maggie!” Merry demanded, taking my hand. “I need to heal that first.”
“I should have brought oven mitts,” I said, prepping myself to try again. Then, I noticed markings on the door frame – strange symbols surrounding horned figures in various stages of a dance. They were terrifying, but also fascinating.
Ruth Anne adjusted her glasses and peered closer. “I think the symbols translate as, Only Angels and food may hinder. Wait, that’s not right, I’m reading this backwards. I forgot that in Ancient Sumerian it’s ‘Eye before Elysian Fields, except after Wheat.’ Let me try again. It says, Only Demons or Fools May Enter. I guess that’s us.”
As I followed the drawings down the frame, my eyes rested on a circular groove carved into the wood. There was a spiral etched into its center.
“Hecate’s Wheel,” I said, lifting the pendant from around my neck and pushing the disk into the notch. The knob turned on its own, and the door swung inward, releasing billows of heavy steam. I jumped back to avoid being scorched.
Michael stepped in front of me, reciting the Lord’s Prayer while ignoring the hot vapor. When it cleared, he appeared to be untouched. There was pure conviction in his eyes.
“It’s time,” I said. I gave Shane a quick kiss and the others a grateful smile.
I stepped into blinding light. Abruptly, I was surrounded by leaping orange and red flames. Magma flowed some distance beneath my feet. I appeared to be suspended within a cavern, with rock walls that flickered with torchlight. For a single moment, the blistering heat consumed me.
And then I could breathe again. Opaque walls separated me from the inferno. There was now a floor beneath my feet, though I could still make out the magma rolling beneath. I thought I was alone, until I heard Eve.
“I don’t ever want to do that again,” she said, reaching for my hand. The others appeared around me.
“Do what?” Michael asked.
“The burning thing,” I said.
“Was there a burning thing? I didn’t notice.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Merry shrugged. “Like getting your ears pierced.”
“I don’t think we had the same experience,” Eve said.
“Montana’s nearby,” Shane said excitedly, as the rest of the room phased in.
Everything was now white - from the lush drapery, to the exquisite wardrobe, to the plush carpets on the translucent floor. Four white stone gargoyles guarded each of the corners, surrounded by pillars with tall candles. Larinda materialized at the far end of the room, wearing a wedding dress and veil that covered only her eyes. At her feet, a white baby cradle rocked all on its own.
“Welcome,” Larinda said, as we advanced on her.
My hands shook as I walked. I would have unleashed already, were she not standing next to my son. I stopped a few yards before her. “Don’t welcome me, Larinda! You know why I’m here. Give me back Montana or I’ll destroy this house too.” I pointed my wand at the lava below our feet.
“That would be foolish. You would kill yourself, and your son.”
“She’s right,” Shane said. “Let me rush her.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Larinda said. She raised her hand over the cradle. “I will end this child’s existence before you take one step.”
I held still, considering our options. Larinda looked to the side and a white clock appeared on the wall. Its hands were both nearing XII. “At midnight, I will marry Armand and become as powerful as any other woman in the Netherworld. The boy will be my dowry. You will go back to your dull little lives, forgetting all about this.”
“Go to hell!” I said. “I’m not giving you my son.”
“Who said give?” She raised her wand and her eyebrows, and simply laughed. “Just one more minute and your father will be here. You can all be our witnesses, our festive little wedding party. Much more apropos than having these stone gargoyles as witnesses,” she said, gesturing to the nearest pedestal.
“If you hadn’t turned Leah to stone, she could have been here,” I said. At this, I saw one of the gargoyles open its eyes. “But now your daughter is dead and it’s your fault. You won’t kill my child, too.”
“Dead?” Larinda said the word as though she didn’t understand what it meant. Her eyes softened, and there was an expression on her face I’d never seen before. Was it grief? Or regret?
The four gargoyles began coming to life, their joints crunching as they stretched their muscular limbs. They eyed Larinda menacingly from their posts, crouching like cats preparing to leap. Larinda raised her wand with one hand and held the cradle handle with the other, hesitating.
“Leah’s dead. You killed your daughter. And it’s all on your hands,” I said, wiping mine clean.
The gargoyles all sprang at the same time. I was expecting Larinda to strike them down instantly with her wand, but she didn’t. Her eyes were dull and her wand dropped to her side. She let go of the cradle as she covered her face. The creatures clawed at her, until one grasped her by the shoulders and lifted her into the air. It flew directly through the faltering wall, her illusion wavering. Larinda kicked and screamed as the gargoyles escorted her into the nothingness.
I sprinted for my son.
The walls were crumbling and the floor cracked, but I didn’t care. I lifted Montana up, crying as I held him to my chest. He was as beautiful and perfect as I remembered. He was worth everything, and so much more. My son! My sun!
I smelled his skin, and a hundred wonderful memories flashed through me - feeding him, bathing him, taking him sledding down Shane’s hill in one of my stupider moments. He cried against my shoulder, his mouth opening and shutting. How had I forgotten his bottle!
“You’re safe, honey,” I whispered. “Mommy’s here.”
The others crowded tightly around us. Michael kissed his son’s forehead and Shane stroked his small hand. My sisters cried as they tickled his fingers and toes. “Thank you,” I said, looking up at each of them. “I’ll make it up to you, somehow.”
I lifted Montana’s face to my own. His green eyes recognized me and he smiled. “I’m never leaving you again,” I said. “And that’s a promise.”
There was a new voice. “Let us just hope you’re better at keeping your promises than your old man is.”
We all turned. Standing beneath the clock was a man I knew very well through both my dreams and the memory globes. But we’d never met in person. He was wearing faded jeans, a fringed suede jacket, and a cowboy hat.
It was exactly midnight.
“Hello, my daughter,” he said, grinning as he removed his hat. “And my first grandson. It is so nice to finally meet you.”
21
Judgement
The memory globes didn’t do Armand justice. It wasn’t just that he was physically striking– which he was. It was his forceful presence; his magnetism. His aura filled the entire room. As he drew closer to me, my thoughts seemed to scatter.
He was young, no older than thirty, and handsome in the way that demons were. He had been born a warlock, trained by the most powerful witch of her time, and he now consorted with the Dark One. I trembled in a way I have never trembled in Gahabrien’s presence.
No one spoke. My breath refused to leave my lungs as Armand marched forward with long strides. I finally gathered my wits and clutched Montana as the others crowded in front of me. Armand laughed and parted his hands, as if stepping through a curtain. My companions paused and then unwillingly moved aside and froze in p
lace, allowing him access. He was as strong as any god, here.
I raised my wand and was gripped with pain, paralyzing me. Armand easily lifted Montana from my arms and stepped back.
“There. That was easy.” Armand pulled the blanket away from Montana’s head. “So, you’re who all the fuss is about. I can see why. You have my hair.”
The warlock then looked around the room as the agonizing pain of his spell threatened to break me. “It seems I missed my own wedding. But we should at least have the reception.” He snapped his fingers and we were free to move again. He snapped them again and we were all holding wine glasses, filled with clear liquid.
“Too bad my bride left me at the altar. She does loves champagne. Oh, well. We drink without her.” He raised the glass to his lips and drew in every drop before it vanished again.
“Don’t do this,” I said, dropping the wine glass. It shattered on the floor before disappearing, too. Not a drop of wine or a shard of glass was left. “I know this isn’t who you are, not deep down. I saw Aunt Dora’s memory globes! You used to care about… some things. Someone.”
I didn’t mention Jillian’s name but I could tell by the gleam in his eyes that my father knew whom I referred to. He put a hand in the pocket of his long coat and laughed. “That was a long time ago, daughter. Your mother betrayed me in not telling me about you. With her betrayal, went the last of my heart.”
“She deceived you because she knew what you were planning.”
“And what is that?” he asked, his brows meeting.
“You would have traded me to the Dark One, in exchange for even more power.”
“Is that what they told you?” He shook his head. “First of all, you are not a male. And though I might have found a loophole to close the deal anyway, that was not my intention. I wanted my daughter.”
“You have me now,” I said, inching closer and glancing towards my son. “If you let me leave with Montana, we can start to forge a real relationship.”
The Shadows of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root Book 5) Page 30
