The Magick of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root)

by April Aasheim

  I stepped back. “What do you want?” I asked, shining the light into her eyes.

  She didn’t so much as blink. Placing a finger into the cleft of her chin like she hadn’t given the question much thought until now she said, “ I need something from you.” She took a lock of my hair, coiling a red strand around her finger. I grabbed her wrist firmly until she let go.

  “You’re as fiery as your hair. Just like your father.”

  “I’m leaving,” I said. “I’m done playing your games.”

  “You can try.” She cocked her. “But the forest here is outside of your mother’s jurisdiction. It obeys me.”

  I swallowed hard, knowing she was right. “If you don’t want the Circle, what do you want? Stop with the games!” The cauldron hissed at my words.

  Leah rose from the bed and added kindling to the fire pit. Then she sat back down and continued to stare vacantly ahead.

  “On the Winter’s Solstice, you and your sisters will perform a ceremony meant to keep certain things out of Dark Root. More specifically, me and my kind.”

  “Your kind?”

  “Witches. Those whose interests don’t align with your mother’s.”

  “So? Why should you care if we do?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “She doesn't want your kind of magick in Dark Root.”

  “And what kind of magic is that?” she asked, fluttering her lashes innocently.

  “Dark magick. Summoning. Banishment.” I tried to think of what else Aunt Dora had told me. “Demonology. Necromancy.”

  She licked her lips, as if she had tasted something delicious. “Don’t let your mother and aunt fool you, young Maggie. We’ve all dabbled in dark magick from time to time. I’ve known your mother for years. She wasn’t always the good witch. You will test your powers, too. It’s in your blood.”

  I stood taller, meeting her eye to eye. “Then you don’t know me.”

  “Oh, I know enough.” She lowered her lashes. “How’s the pool-playing coming along? Making any money yet?”

  I glared, clenching and unclenching my fists. From the corner of my eye I noticed that Leah had managed a smile.

  “If you need money, I have plenty of it. More than enough for you to buy your Dora’s precious Harvest Home.”

  Larinda opened her palm and produced a gold coin, then closed her hand and it was gone.

  “On the solstice, you will not perform that ceremony,” she said flatly. “In return, I will give you enough money to last you a lifetime, and leave you and your family alone. Forever.”

  My fingers trembled at Larinda’s promise. But one gold coin didn’t mean anything.

  “I don’t need your money,” I said. “And you already seem to be able to come and go in Dark Root as you please.”

  “When your mother transferred the Circle to you…and I know she did by the way…the dome slipped. Parts of me are able to get in. My essence, so to speak. But my tribe and I need to be able to enter completely, without restriction. That’s where you come in. Only she who wields the Circle can ensure the spell takes shape. All I ask is that you forgo it for a year.”

  “Assuming everything you’ve said is true, why would I do that?”

  Larinda paused, appraising me.

  She passed one of her hands over the other and produced a crystal ball, the size of a snow globe. Pictures moved within the glass.

  “In Dark Root grows a unique tree, the Lightning Willow, which has fed itself for the last century on the magick of the land.” Larinda waved her hand and the image of a golden willow tree appeared in the ball, a metallic river rushing behind it.

  “When your mother dies, and she will, very soon I think, the tree will die too.”

  “Don’t talk about my mother dying.” My fist clenched again.

  “It’s a fact of life, Maggie. All things die. Your mother may be a witch but she won’t live forever. Her fault, really.”

  I wondered what would happen if I hit her? Would Larinda take the blow, or turn to ash? Or perhaps seal me inside this cabin forever? I dug my fingernails into my palms to keep from striking her.

  “Leah, the dunce that she is, has not chosen her wand,” Larinda continued. “I simply want her to have access to the tree. She will cut her wand before the sun sets on your mother’s life. That’s all I ask. Then we all go our separate ways.”

  “Why would I allow that?” I reiterated.

  With another wave of her hand the image of the willow was replaced by one of Mother, sleeping in her bed. “The Lightning Willow has special healing properties. You can take a wand from the tree, too. We take ours, you take yours. Save your mother…”

  “Stop it!” I shouted. The ball in Larinda’s hand disappeared.

  “Very good, Maggie. What you just did was a mild form of banishment. See? We all walk the line.”

  “I’m done listening to your propaganda. Aunt Dora told me what a liar you are. You probably want to get into Dark Root so that you can cause harm to us all. Just like you sent Leah to do before.”

  Larinda’s face went a shade whiter. “I never sent her to cause harm. She had one simple order, retrieve the Circle, and she bungled it. I’m sorry your family suffered because of it. That was never my intent.” She glided towards the cauldron, stirring the pot. “Stay in denial if you will, but we both know your mother is sick. She doesn’t have long left. Months maybe.” She looked up from the pot, her eyes twinkling. “The willow can not only heal people, but extend their lives. Indefinitely, perhaps.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Long ago, your mother cut a branch from the tree. She used the wand to keep herself young. All of us, really. That was one of the allures of joining The Council. No matter how what our differences, we all wanted eternal youth.

  “But then she began to use it on outsiders. Soldiers, the sick, even a common prostitute once.” Larinda spat in disgust. “She squandered its power. The more she used it on others, the less she used it on us.

  “Sasha developed these ideologies. Said she didn’t want to live forever, that no one should. Eventually, she stopped using it on herself altogether. As for us, we had to beg for it. Crawl around like dogs at her feet for a fix.”

  Larinda’s face morphed from disgust to rage.

  “Who the hell was she to decide for us what was best? The power got to her head. When your mother locked the wand away, it only had one charge left. And to this day I don’t know if she used that last charge or not.

  “I only want what I deserve. What we all deserve. We are witches. We shouldn’t be bound by normal laws.” She floated towards Leah, lifting her daughter’s cheek. “The end is coming, Maggie. We’ve held it back for too long now. But it is coming. And when that day comes, mankind will suffer. Greatly. I suggest you prepare yourself now.”

  “People are always saying the world will end,” I said. “But it never does.”

  “That day is shielded from us,” Larinda said. “Even us. But when that day comes, think what would happen if you had a wand that would heal those you love the most: your sisters, your aunt, your friends, your mother.” Her eyes fell to my stomach. “Your child.”

  My lips trembled and my heart thumped in my ears. “And if that day never comes?”

  “You can use it now. To save your mother. Or others you love.”

  Larinda placed a hand on Leah’s shoulder. “Someday, I will be a grandmother. I want my grandchild to live in a world without disease and fear. I want this for his generation. Not mine.”

  “You don’t mean a world. You mean a select few.”

  Larinda’s eyes brightened. “I shielded the location of the Lightning Willow many years ago. Do not perform the ritual and I will show you where it is. We will both get our wands and life will go on. Forever.”

  Shouts outside the cabin startled us both.

  “Maggie! Maggie!” It was Shane. A beam of light shone through the boards in the window.

  Larinda hissed, drawing her cl
oak around herself and Leah. A thunderous clap sounded beneath the cloak.

  In an instant, the women vanished, replaced by two ravens.

  Shane and Ruth Anne burst inside. The black birds screeched as they flew out the door, whisking past my rescuers.

  “Thank God for Shane!” Ruth Anne covered me in my discarded blanket. “Or I never would have found you.”

  “What the hell were you doing all the way out here?” Shane asked, looking around the room. The fire was gone and the cauldron was bone cold. Only smoke and soot remained.

  “Keeping warm,” I said, my eyes following the birds who became one with the night.

  Fifteen

  SPIDERWEBS

  “We called a towing service in Linsburg. Since tomorrow’s Thanksgiving, they won’t be able to get here until Friday.”

  Shane’s eyes did not move from the road as he drove us home.

  I sat quietly beside him while Ruth Anne occupied herself in the back seat with a bag of Tootsie Rolls left over from Halloween.

  “Merry will be so upset.” I chewed on the ends of my hair, imagining her face when she heard the news. “Not only did we not get her turkey, we ruined her car.”

  “She’ll be alright,” Ruth Anne said, chomping on a mouthful of candy. “I already talked to her on the phone. Her insurance should cover most of it, after we meet the deductible.”

  “Deductible? How much?”

  “Five hundred.”

  “Ugh.” I slunk down in my seat as I added the cost to my ever-growing expense list.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” Shane said, placing a hand on my knee. I left it there a second before removing it.

  “Maggie, I wanted to talk to you the other day when you saw me and…”

  I glared at him, my eyes unblinking.

  “…it really wasn’t what it looked like,” he said.

  “Okay, then what was it?” I glanced over my shoulder to see if Ruth Anne was paying attention. She wasn’t. Now that we were within cell range, she was busy with her phone, playing games or surfing the net.

  “I can’t tell you that, but you have to trust me.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard that before,” I said. “Men always tell you to trust them while they’re sneaking around behind your back.”

  “One guy breaks your heart and you think we’re all like that!” He slammed his palms against the steering wheel as he pulled into the driveway of Sister House.

  Merry stood in the window, talking on the phone. Eve sat on the porch swing, staring intently at something on her lap.

  “If you want to believe that all men are bad, far be it from me to try and convince you otherwise,” he added. “I’m just the guy that’s went out of his way to rescue you…let’s see, at least four times that I’m aware of.”

  “Rescue me?” I turned on him, my mouth dropping incredulously as Ruth Anne slipped out the back door. “For your information, I didn’t need rescuing tonight. I had things perfectly under control.”

  “Oh, did you?” He pushed his cowboy hat further onto his head. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t have come, then.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have.” I bumbled out the door, slamming it behind me.

  “From now on, you can save your own neck,” he said, peeling out of the driveway.

  He turned on the radio, blasting an obnoxious country song as he rode away.

  “Fine!” I yelled back, but he was gone. I didn’t need him, anyway. He could go rescue someone else. The image of the blond woman filled my mind.

  As I stomped up the porch steps, the patio lights went off.

  “Do you have to do that every time?” Eve sighed.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to. What are you doing out here?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  I gave her a suspicious once-over as I stepped into the light that emanated from the living room window. She had something on her lap. A book. “The complete works of Edgar Allen Poe? Since when do you read?”

  “I read.”

  “Yeah? What?”

  “Magazines and stuff.”

  “Hmmm.” I sat next to her on the swing. “You’re really worried about Paul.”

  She snorted. “Hardly. I just wanted to see what all the fuss about Poe was about. Frankly,” she said, putting the book in her gigantic purse. “I don’t get that poem. So the raven says ‘nevermore.’ Is that supposed to mean something?”

  I shrugged.

  “If the raven actually said something useful, I could see it, but nevermore? What kind of word is that?”

  The light in the window flipped off and we sat in darkness. Soon a soft, flickering glow emanated from the glass. We turned to see Merry setting a white candle down on the floor of the living room.

  She sat in front of it, with legs crossed and eyes closed, and planted her hands on the floor beside her. She chanted and a golden orb of energy surrounded her as silver sparkles shone from her fingertips. We were witnessing a private moment, and though I felt like a peeping Tom, I couldn’t take my eyes off my sister.

  She looked so calm, so serene. In spite of the fact that she took care of Mother, day in and day out, warred with her ex-husband, and got news that her car had been in a wreck, she still managed to exude an energy of peace.

  “She’s beautiful,” Eve said.

  “Yes.”

  “I wish that I could be more like her.” Eve cast her eyes downward.

  I squeezed her hand. “Me, too.”

  The candle went out. The doorknob turned and Merry stepped onto the porch.

  “I thought I sensed you two out here,” she said, the light still clinging to her, lighting up her face like a halo. Her arms were bare but she didn’t seem to notice the cold as she joined us on the swing.

  Eve and I moved apart, making room for Merry in the middle.

  She placed a hand on each of our laps, allowing her warm energy to course through us. Eve and I peeled off our sweaters, tossing them onto the porch, then rested our heads on Merry’s shoulders, bookends to the woman who was more like a mother to us than a sister.

  We swung, our feet leveraged against the ground, pushing and releasing in unison. Merry sang to us, a sweet tune about the stars and a little girl who traveled among them, a song she used to sing when we were children, though I couldn’t remember all the words.

  It didn’t matter. All I wanted was to bask in her glow, to feel her energy, to sit on the porch swing of my mother’s house for all eternity with Merry and Eve, where I felt safe.

  “Are you mad about the car?” I asked, folding my hands into my lap.

  “No. I’m not mad about the car. It was an accident.”

  “How about the turkey?”

  She laughed. A lyrical laugh.

  “Of course not.” She paused for a moment, her full lips puckering, her long lashes fluttering. “I do think,” she said, measuring her words. “That you are keeping something from me. That is what really bothers me.”

  I almost told her everything. About our pool games, the taxes on Harvest Home, Larinda, and how she had engineered the entire event tonight.

  But either shame or fear of upsetting her stopped me.

  “I know what you two have been up to,” Merry said, gently. Eve and I raised our heads but didn’t speak. “Not going to confess then? Doesn’t matter. I was shown it in my visions.”

  Merry never lied and we knew we had been caught.

  “Oh,” was all I could reply.

  “Remember the creed? What you put out comes back to you…”

  “…three times,” Eve finished.

  “We are trying to help,” I said.

  “There are other ways, Maggie. Have faith.”

  I pondered this as I listened to the sounds of the night: insects, small animals thrashing through the leaves, a raven calling out from the woods. If there were other ways to help, I didn’t know of any. Merry might have faith, but mine was depleted.

  In my opinion, faith only worked when you did.

&n
bsp; “Now,” Merry said, tapping us each on the leg. “Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, a perfect time to express our gratitude for what we do have. Love and family. And that is how we’ll carry on.”

  “Yes,” Eve and I agreed.

  “Now, ladies, I need to get some sleep. You can stay here, if you don’t want to walk home.”

  “We’ll be okay, Merry,” I assured her. Eve and I had made the walk between Sister House and Harvest Home so many times, we knew the route by heart.

  On our walk home, I thought about what Merry said, about being grateful and carrying on. I wanted to be good like her, I really did. And I planned to be. Just as soon as our problems were fixed.

  “After the holidays we stop this,” I said as Harvest Home came into view.

  “That should be long enough, if we keep winning like we have been. I think if we can keep the shop going until February, my perfume should sell well enough to get us through the spring. And I know a banker…I’m sure if he sees how well we are doing, we could use the shop as collateral and get a loan for the taxes.”

  “Yes. So just a few more games then. Agreed?”

  “Maybe one tonight? Bar’s closed tomorrow.”

  “What about things coming back to us three times? Merry made me feel a bit guilty, taking money from people like that.”

  “I thought about that, too. We have to be extra good in the future. Volunteer at schools…”

  My eyes lit up as I understood. “Man a soup kitchen. No, wait…bring soup to a soup kitchen.”

  “Yes.”

  It sounded reasonable. Enough good acts could negate the bad. Besides, we were doing it all for a noble purpose anyway. I placed a hand on my belly as we opened the front door of the house. By the time by the baby came, everything would be settled and I could devote myself to being a good mother like Merry.

  “Okay, so it’s settled,” I said. “As of the New Year, we call it quits. Pinkie promise.”

  Eve and I put our little fingers out, interlocking them.

  A pinkie promise: the highest form of magic.

  “I’ll grab Paul’s keys,” Eve whispered, as we snuck past Aunt Dora to get cleaned up.

  “You’d think he’d get smart and start hiding them.”