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

by April Aasheim

  Armand laughed so hard he choked. “Forge a relationship? Forge a fucking relationship? Who the hell do you think I am?” He turned angrily, as if looking for something to punch. He pointed at one of the empty pedestals and it burst into flame, as if made of paper. “I do not need your pity, Magdalene. I wanted my daughter only because she was Jillian’s, never because she was mine. I do not have that kind of ego, despite what you have been told. But now, seeing you only reminds me of her. You have her eyes. Do you think I need that kind of mind fuck at this stage of my life? ”

  “Please, then give him back and you’ll never have to see me again. You said you could have figured out a loophole. Figure one out now. Please! For Jillian!”

  He snarled, his eyes gleaming like those of a Netherwolf. “I said I lost all love for her! And even if I didn’t, you have no right to invoke that woman’s name in front of me.” He took a long step froward, his grip tightening on Montana. “No right.”

  “You have no right to…to… “

  “Rights? Oh-oh! Let us talk about rights!”

  Armand snapped his fingers again and the walls shimmered, changing in color and texture. Larinda’s bridal suite vanished and we were standing in a brick room, with stained wood wainscoting. My father stood behind an imposing podium, a gavel in his free hand. On a table beside him was a bronze scale. We were in a courtroom.

  “Now, let us have that discussion about rights.” He waved his hand and we were forcefully pushed down onto high-backed benches that suddenly appeared behind us.

  “Let us go,” Eve said as she struggled to stand. “This isn’t funny.”

  My father laughed. “That is not true. I find it quite funny. Now, to keep further unnecessary comments to a minimum, I am going to insist that only one of you speak at a time. And only when I have called on you by name.” He slid his pinched thumb and forefinger across the air in a zipping motion. I tried to speak but I could only gurgle. We’d been muted.

  “Just like Babel, right Michael?” Armand said. “If the peasants are conspiring with one another, it is better that they not speak at all.”

  “You are not a god,” Michael said. “What you’re doing won’t make you immortal. There’s a battle between hell and heaven that has been raging for years, and…“

  “And years. Yes, I know. And your poor world is caught in the crossfire. But the battle’s end is nigh! And I plan on being on the winning team when it is all over.” Armand left the podium and carried Montana down the aisle, stopping before Michael. “I give you credit man, for still having some of that faith. Fuck, I’d of lost mine when half my followers disappeared, but you took it like a man. Good for you.”

  Armand kissed Montana’s cheek and held him to his chest. Michael’s face reddened as he struggled against his invisible restraints, cursing Armand with every breath.

  “You, yourself predicted these days, back when people still listened to you,” Armand continued, “You wanted them. You could see and even taste the destruction coming. And then you were bummed out the end didn’t come about. But man, they’re almost here! You should be happy that Montana will help usher in a new age! After a bit of turmoil, I hear it’s gonna be golden. A party, all the way to the end. You could ride it out too, if you knew whose bread to butter.”

  The cross around Michael’s neck levitated up, and Armand shook his head. “Fool,” he said, reaching out to touch the crucifix with the tip of his finger. It melted like wax. “Your God has been gone a long time, buddy. He did not help my ‘priest father,’ and He certainly didn’t do anything for me. You should look into finding another savior.” Armand shrugged, walking away as Michael stared at his melted chain. “And now, I mute you.”

  I struggled silently, trying to free myself while Armand returned to his pulpit. I tried to remember spells that might free us, but I couldn’t work long as my father turned his attention to me.

  “My daughter says I have no right…no right to what, Magdalene? My first male heir? I say I have every right. I made this deal long before any of you were even created, and it is time for me to pay up. My boss grows weary.”

  He pointed to me, granting my voice again. I choked as the constriction lifted from my chest and throat. “Do you really hate us that much?” I asked.

  There was genuine confusion in his eyes. “No. I don’t hate you, Maggie. You are a part of me. In fact, your son is so valuable that as part of the deal, I plan on asking my boss for an extension of time, on your behalf. He has waited this long for the war, what’s another decade or so?”

  “A decade? And then what?”

  “And then we see.” Armand put Montana into his cradle beside the podium, then banged his gavel three times. Somehow my son slept through it. “But we are here concerning other matters. Let the trial begin.”

  “Trial?”

  “The Trial of Rights.” Armand grinned out over his captive audience. “Just think, this little guy might buy all of humanity another ten years. Twelve if you are on good behavior. Isn’t that worth it?” He motioned towards the scale. A feather sat on one copper plate, and a pulsating human heart sat on the other. “In the old days, they measured a man’s heart against the weight of a feather, then later, against the weight of his sins. Today, we weigh one life against another.”

  Now floating above the scale plates were two holograms - one of Montana, the other of Earth. “One small life for ten years of peace on earth.The request seems more than fair, if you ask me.”

  “That’s not fair at all!” I protested, slamming my hand against my bench.

  “Isn’t it? We make decisions like this all the time. Don’t we, Shane?” He turned to my husband. The images over the scales shifted again, showing Asha on one plate and a ramshackle village on the other. “The boy is not the only child whose blood is on your hands, is he tracker? If you had to do it again, who would you save this time, besides yourself?”

  “You’re an asshole,” Shane said, his face as red as the bricks in the wall.

  Armand twisted his finger in the air and Shane’s hat lifted from his head, floating all the way to the podium. He inspected it and frowned.“I prefer my vintage one,” he said. With that, Shane’s hat melted , just like Michael’s cross.

  “If I ever get the chance…” Shane said, writhing to break free.

  “You’ll do what? Track me? I see how adept you are at that. How many times did you fail my daughter here? You had one job, Shane. One.”

  “I was going to say I’d kill you.”

  My father shrugged. “You’ve done plenty of that before, haven’t you?” Before Shane could speak, Armand silenced him again with an aerial zip. “You’re an arrogant fool, just like your uncle.”

  Armand paced the front of the room, scratching his head beneath his hat. Eventually, he circled over to Merry, gently lifting her chin.

  “You’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you? With your big eyes and your morals and your heart?” He pointed to the scale and there was Merry’s image hovering over one plate and her daughter June Bug on the other. “Yes. A real sweetheart.”

  Merry sobbed.

  “Stop it!” he said, pushing her face away. “You are only crying out of shame. No one receives atonement from shame. You earn atonement through absolution and making amends.”

  “I’ve made amends!”

  “Oh, you have? So where is that kid of yours? Oh yeah, with her cuckold father. Maybe its better you don’t have a hand in raising her.”

  He silenced Merry’s crying and moved on to Paul, sitting beside her.

  “And you. How much is a life worth to you? A record deal? You sacrificed your brother for sex, drugs and rock and roll. I think we could have a beer sometime.”

  “Leave them alone!” I said. “This is between you and me. Keep everyone else out of it.”

  Armand rapped his knuckles against the back of a bench. “Is my little girl jealous she’s not getting enough attention? Don’t worry, Maggie. I have not forgotten you.” My own image app
eared on the scale opposite Montana’s.

  “As a trained witch, you knew how much power the spoken word carries. And yet, you selfishly denounced wanting your own child. Your own flesh and blood. Do you think that perhaps you brought this whole thing upon yourself? That maybe you set the avalanche of Montana’s fate in motion? Destinies are created before birth, you know.” He grinned and licked his lips. “You’re not so different from me after all, if you think about it.”

  My entire body trembled, but I gauged my words carefully. He was baiting me, playing on my fears and my guilt. “I’m sorry I ever said that,” I admitted. “But you don’t get to decide the worth of my soul.” I looked defiantly at the scale. One of the plates collapsed.

  “You’re a spitfire,” he said. “I admit I find that endearing.”

  Armand made his way towards my bench. As he passed Ruth Anne, she grabbed for his arm. He broke away easily. “I wondered why Sasha kept you around after learning you were a failed witch. She must have found your pluck useful and entertaining. Too bad you didn’t show her the same loyalty. But I understand. I had a hard time being loyal to her, too.” He winked. “Did Dora ever forgive you? I wouldn’t be surprised if—“

  “I said leave them alone!”

  My body quaked with anger. My bench rocked and jerked violently beneath me, the legs drumming on the floor, trying to beat themselves free. How dare him, I thought, releasing so much energy that the bench splintered into pieces, and I was free.

  I stood and eyed him over my raised wand. I might be younger and less experienced, but I was also a wilder - and not one to be trifled with. Even by an warlock of his stature.

  “That’s my girl,” he said, nodding as he backed towards the cradle. “I knew you had some of my coursing through you.”

  “I have some of Jillian’s, too.”

  “I said never to mention…“

  With still-trembling fingers, I pointed at the nearby pews, collapsing all of them. My sisters quickly gathered themselves and drew their wands, the men close beside them. Merry drew a protective circle around us as we advanced.

  “Give him back!” I demanded, aiming my wand at Armand’s chest. I pulled from the rich magick of this deeper world. It was a dark and polluted energy that made me want to retch, but it was potent. The gem at the tip of my wand sparked in anticipation. “Give back my son, Father. I’m not sure what will happen if I let everything go, but I guarantee, if we go down, you’ll go down with us.”

  Armand’s eyes shifted from side to side. He started to snap his fingers and I quickly flicked my wand. A red welt appeared across his palm. He retracted it, stung.

  “Don’t make me hurt you, Maggie,” he said. “Or my grandson.” His aura flashed silver around him, as if he’d stepped on a live wire. “You might be The Sworn One, whatever the hell that means, but sworn to who? And why? It is because of my bloodline that you can do all those nifty tricks. You owe everything to me.”

  “I owe nothing to you!” The charge building within me grew, threatening to overload my system. I aimed at what was left of his justice scales and they flew into the wall, clattering to pieces. I looked around for something else to throw as the courtroom lights flickered wildly around us.

  “You have your mother’s spirit,” Armand said calmly.

  “But I don’t have her forgiving heart! I must have inherited that from you. Time’s up!” I pointed at a clock, and it burst into flames.

  Armand stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles, a smile pulling at his lips. “Don’t make me do this, Maggie. Can’t you see I’m trying to reason with you? I am not the bad guy here. You saw for yourself how Sasha treated me, using my abilities for her own gains. She used everyone – Dora, Jillian, Joe - even her daughters. She didn’t take you in out of love - she took you out of necessity. And I am the bad one?” He spat spit from the side of his mouth, and the floor hissed as the saliva evaporated.

  “Sasha has nothing to do with this,” I said, making my way towards the cradle, never lowering my wand. “You had free will. You could have used it to do some good in the world. But no, you wanted more. You blew it.”

  “Free will? Free fucking will? Are you kidding me? Do you know how many souls are locked up in this part of the Netherworld? Countless. More than the stars in the sky, my dear. And it is all because of free will.”

  Armand flicked his tongue, as if he were a lizard searching for the sun. “No one has free will in the Upper World. Not when personal survival is on the line. Sure, they tell you you do, then they leave you out there, starving, naked, and alone. Merry didn’t have free will when she lied to her husband, because she knew he’d beat the shit out of her if he found out. And Shane didn’t have free will when he signed that kid’s death order. Free will is all an illusion, created to make you believe you’re in charge. Free will doesn’t exist, Maggie.”

  “Yes, it does. And I’m using mine now.”

  I released everything that was left inside me, sending it through my arm, my hand, and my wand, and straight at my father. He was the epicenter of my storm. The room tremored and lurched, as if it were a boat in the eye of a hurricane; the air whipped around us, loosening the podium from the floor and scattering the fragmented benches; the walls began to disintegrate, along with the floor.

  The whole place was crumbling down around us.

  “Maggie! Stop!” Shane called out to me. “You’re going to kill us all.”

  I kept channeling - pushing, pushing, pushing… throwing everything at my warlock father. My sisters added their own wands, lending their own strength to mine.

  “Stop!” Armand commanded, holding out his arms. His face gleamed with sweat, and his breathing was labored. “I cannot stop the wheels, Maggie! Don’t you understand? They were set in motion by the Fates long ago. A sacrifice must be made. I would rather destroy everything than tell the Dark One I cannot meet the terms of our agreement. You would too, if you met him.”

  We were no longer standing on a courtroom floor, but on a large flat rock floating in the river of magma. All illusion was gone as we drifted along a vast, yet suffocating cavern. The cradle rocked precariously near the edge of the rock, and Shane continued to beg me to stop. He needn’t have worried. I was nearly spent and there was nothing left to tear apart. My sisters’ arms began to waver too, and they dropped their wands to their sides.

  “Ah, the follies of youth,” Armand said. “They think they can charge in with only rudimentary training, and challenge the establishment. But the establishment has remained there for a reason. With age comes wisdom, Maggie. Remember that.”

  Armand stretched his arm towards the magma river, and raised up his hand. A shape rose up, formed of the lava itself. It towered beside the floating slab on which we stood, a faceless beast with six thick arms. Armand lowered his hand, and the shape descended back into the depths.

  “You and that puny wand are no match for me,” he said.

  He was right. Our wands, even combined, were no match for him. I looked to each of my companions, and then to my son. There was only one option left to me.

  I dropped my wand, letting it roll off into the river. And then I stepped up to meet my father.

  There was only the death touch.

  I held out a single finger, an arm’s reach away.

  He knew what I was planning before I spoke.

  “Where do you think you got that talent?” Armand asked. “Certainly not from your mother.” He raised up his own finger, poised a short inch from my own. I could feel the currents traveling between us, fingertip to fingertip. “You cannot destroy me, Maggie. I am too strong. Only a god wields that power now.”

  “Or a goddess,” said a female’s voice.

  Two beautiful women appeared beside us, walking barefoot along the surface of the magma river. They stepped up onto the rock, stopping before Armand. Lilith and Hecate in her younger form.

  Armand tightened his jaw. “Why have you come? You ladies have no jurisdiction here.”
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  “Oh?” Lilith smiled, jutting out a hip. “That is not what your patron says. As a matter of fact, he has invited me to come over any time. Day or night. Preferably night,” she winked. “No key required.”

  “And I have my own key,” Hecate said, holding up her wheeled pendant. “We can gain an audience with him whenever we please. Now release the child, or we shall please.”

  For the first time, my father seemed agitated. He stood over the cradle, licking his parched lips. “You two should know that deals like this cannot be broken. He will not allow it.”

  “That is true,” Lilith conceded. “The laws are binding here. But perhaps there is a loophole.”

  Hecate opened her palms and a scroll appeared. She unfurled it and began reading. “Henceforth… to be held accountable… by the year… here it is! You owe your benefactor your first male heir. That is the entirety of what you owe.”

  “Offer me instead,” I said. “I’m not male, but I’m the Sworn One. That must have some value.”

  “No,” Lilith said. “Your importance is tied to many things, including the seed and the child. Neither will grow without you. And even if they could, you return to the Upper World to fulfill your own destiny. The Fates are very clear about that.”

  “Yes,” Hecate agreed, as the scroll vanished from her hands.

  “Magdalene wouldn’t count anyway,” Armand grumbled. “Trust me, I’ve asked. It needs to be a male.”

  “Then take me!” Shane said. “I’m Maggie’s husband. So that makes me your son. Technically.”

  Armand shook his head. “Valiant effort, but you are not my first male heir, nor is your heart pure enough to trade. You’ve got far too much baggage to be of any real value. Why do you think the Dark One prefers children? They’re not all soiled, like the rest of us.”

  Michael opened his palms and looked lovingly at his child, still sleeping in his cradle. “Consider this: Montana is my son, and I’m his legal guardian while he’s a minor. Therefore, until he’s eighteen, I’m the trustee of whatever he’s heir to. That makes me your first male heir, for now.”