The Curse of Dark Root: Part One (Daughters of Dark Root Book 3)

by April Aasheim

  Besides, I had Shane…

  “I’m scared,” I admitted.

  “Don’t be,” Eve said. “I hear the food in China is really good and the cost of living is low. Michael can probably get a job on some assembly line making more of those statues.”

  “That’s not what I’m afraid of.”

  “The curse?” Ruth Anne asked. “Aunt Dora and Jillian are working hard to find a cure, you know that.”

  I shook my head. “Not that either. It’s Shane. I haven’t seen or heard from him since he left. I hope he’s okay.”

  Ruth Anne’s eyes narrowed. “Since he left? It’s been nearly two weeks. Shane wouldn’t just disappear.”

  “That’s what I thought, too.”

  “Maybe your phone isn’t working?” Ruth Anne dialed my number on her smartphone and my tote bag started ringing. She put her phone away and apologized. “Guess it is working. But maybe his isn’t? I dropped mine in the toilet once and it took nearly three days to dry out. It still makes this buzzing sound when it rings.”

  “It’s been two weeks, Ruth Anne. Even if his phone fell in Lake Superior, he should have found a way to call.” I held back the tears but couldn’t stop my lips from trembling.

  In an instant, both sisters huddled around me, Eve smoothing my hair while Ruth Anne patted me on the back.

  “I’m okay,” I said, sniffing as I sought out a Kleenex. “I’m sure it’s just hormones.”

  “If he disappeared because you have another man’s bun in your oven, I’ll…I’ll…” Eve’s energy flickered menacingly. “I’ll summon him here then banish him away again.”

  “Thank you,” I said as the image of Shane and his ex-lover found its way back into my head. Shane was touching her ear, kissing her cheek, wooing her the same way he wooed me in our dreams. I squeezed my eyes shut so that my neurotic creation would disappear. “I have to keep my head up.”

  “You have no idea where he went?” Eve asked.

  I stammered, wondering how much to reveal. If Eve knew Shane had left to attend to his ex-girlfriend, even if she was dying, she would follow through on her threat. I blew into a tissue and decided to spill it. “An old friend of his is very ill. He had to be with her.”

  “Her? That’s it,” Eve said. “I’m making two batches of this stuff.”

  “Too bad you’re not a tracker, like he is,” Ruth Anne said.

  No, I wasn’t a tracker. But I was a witch.

  I pressed my lips together as an idea formed, brought about by Eve’s words. “Anyone up for a good old-fashioned summoning?”

  Ruth Anne studied me. “That’s forbidden too, Maggie. You know that.”

  “No,” I corrected her. “Summoning demons is forbidden. But there’s nothing against summoning a person’s spirit. Isn’t that basically what Jillian does?”

  “Technically, I think the spirits come to her,” Ruth Anne said. “And, those spirits are dead.”

  “Potato, potato.”

  Eve’s eyes brightened. “That’s the spirit, Maggie. What good is being a witch if you can’t use your powers? I’m in!”

  Eve closed the store while I cast a quick negation spell over her potion, something I had learned from Mother’s Spell Book after the last catastrophe.

  Ruth Anne made notes in her pad. “Be careful,” she whispered when Eve left the room.

  “With what?”

  “With the summoning. It’s really easy to cross the line once you start down that path. I heard that’s what happened to your father.”

  It was settled.

  We would wrangle Merry away from Michael and conduct the summoning ritual the following evening. Eve insisted the moon would be in a waning phase then, the perfect time to summon a demon––or Shane.

  It would be a chalk circle ritual, requiring three items from the person we wanted to call forth. Unless you counted a plate I had borrowed and never returned, or my dream ring, I currently had none. Luckily, we were right across the street from Dip Stix, which served as Shane’s place of business, and his home.

  “I prefer we use a different term for this rite,” Ruth Anne said. “Maybe the Calling Ceremony? It has a better ring to it, and since words have power, it may not rouse the attention of any darklings wandering about.”

  Eve smirked. “You've come a long way from the disbelieving adolescent you used to be.”

  Ruth Anne rubbed the side of her neck, as if to work out a kink. “Yeah well, things change. I just don’t want to accidentally summon shit we shouldn't be summoning.”

  “Try saying that three times fast,” I said as I gathered white candles and matches, citron incense to increase our powers, and cedar incense for protection. I also threw in some sage, a book on archaic symbols, and several large pieces of chalk. To be on the safe side, I grabbed a few mason jars, too. We already had one demon trapped inside a jar, and in this town, there was always a chance of more.

  It was after seven when we left the shop and the sun had already dipped below the tree line. Main Street was nearly empty by this hour and it brought on a tinge of sadness. We had worked hard to revive Dark Root, but without Dip Stix serving dinner, none of the other stores remained open. Miss Sasha's Magick Shoppe might be the heart of Main Street, but the quaint café was its anchor.

  I closed my eyes, remembering the smell of fresh baked bread wafting from the restaurant, the sound of Paul's music––sometimes live and sometimes on a CD––broadcasting from the outside speaker, and the glow of white twinkle lights shining through the window. That all seemed like a lifetime ago. What was left was a darkened window with a large, hand-written sign taped to the inside that read: Closed until further notice.

  I frowned as I stared at the sign, wondering if it would ever again read OPEN. It's a strange feeling when people leave you. At first you feel them everywhere, then, only in places where they used to be. At some point, their energy must fade away completely, remembered only when you catch the scent of a familiar smell, or in your dreams.

  I wasn't about to let that happen. Shane was not going to fade away from me. Tonight we’d gather three items from his café, and tomorrow, when the moon was right, we’d summon him forward.

  “It's going to be okay,” Ruth Anne said to me on the sidewalk outside of Mother’s shop. “I guarantee it. And you know me. I'm not one for promises.”

  I looked down at my belly, cupping it between my hands. “How do people do it?”

  “Do what?” Eve asked, catching up to us in her three-inch heels.

  “How does anyone love? It's such a hard thing to do. People come into your life…and then leave. You give your heart to them not knowing if they will destroy it in the process. Life would be easier without love, I think.”

  Ruth Anne gazed down the long road, her eyes taking in the dozen or so shops that made up Main Street as the wind stirred her brown curls. Eve looked the opposite direction, towards the square where she and Paul had played music during The Haunted Dark Root Festival. Not a hair on her head moved, as if even the wind was afraid to arouse her ire.

  After a long silence Ruth Anne turned to me, her eyes gentler than normal. “We do it because we don't have a choice.”

  “We're all screwed then,” I said.

  “It would seem that way.”

  Ruth Anne placed her hands on top of mine, which were still secured to my belly. Eve did the same. It felt ridiculous at first, like players huddling over a basketball before the whistle sounded, but then it felt natural––three women celebrating the beauty and the majesty of life. And that, I realized, is essentially what witchcraft boiled down to––sisterhood and a reverence for the eternal circle.

  We breathed together, feeling our collective energy rush through us and into my womb. It was a wondrous moment. Ruth Anne was correct; I had no choice. I loved my family and I loved my baby.

  …and I loved Shane.

  After several moments, we were rewarded with a soft kick and the heel of my son's foot as it traversed across my
abdomen. My eyes misted. I wasn't sure what the future held for any of us, but a lifetime of uncertainty was worth one moment on earth where there was love.

  Even a little bit of it.

  “If the curse takes me before my son is born...” I began. “Don't let Michael take him out of Dark Root. He belongs here.”

  “Don't you talk like that,” Eve hissed, removing her hands from ours. “Of course you are going to make it.”

  “No one can fight like you, Maggie,” Ruth Anne said. “There's not a doubt in my mind that you are going to come out of this A-Okay.”

  “And heaven help the person who did this to you.” Eve's dark eyes flashed. “I have a special potion in mind, just for them.”

  I laughed, wondering if she were kidding. Knowing Eve, she probably wasn't. And I was okay with that.

  “Now let's go prepare for our séance, “Eve said.

  “Our Summoning Circle,” I countered.

  “Our Calling Ceremony,” Ruth Anne corrected us both. She took one of my arms and Eve took the other. I felt like Dorothy, flanked by Scarecrow and The Tin Woman.

  “Faith,” Ruth Anne said when we reached Dip Stix.

  “Huh?” I asked.

  “You never know when you will see someone for the last time. You just have to have faith that when you wake up, they’ll still be around. That's what gives us the courage to love.” The corners of Ruth Anne's mouth dipped like the setting sun. Before I could comment, she tugged on her Nirvana T-shirt and busied herself with wiping at a mustard stain on the sleeve.

  Eve tapped me on the shoulder. “Maggie, I don't mean to alarm you, but your ugly tote bag is vibrating.”

  “And glowing!” Ruth Anne added.

  I reached into the tote and removed my wand. Sure enough, the onyx stone pulsed with gray light.

  “Why are you carrying that thing around?” Eve wrinkled her nose.

  “I just am.” I didn't mention my decision to keep it with me after my encounters with Juliana's spirit, for fear of being teased. Eve wouldn't fight a ghost with a wand; she'd use her bare hands.

  Ruth Anne rummaged through her pockets and produced the small metallic device I called her “Spirit Box.” She pushed a few buttons, directing the EMF reader up and down the outline of the window. The gadget whirred and beeped in her hands. She brought it close to the door and it grew louder. “Ladies, we have activity here, and judging by the way this thing is going off, there's quite a lot of it. Maybe multiple spirits.”

  I ran the wand along the perimeter of the café window, as well as the door. The pulsing quickened.

  Ruth Anne returned her EMF reader to one pocket and rummaged through another until she produced her camera. Stepping back into the street, she took a series of pictures. “Maybe we should conduct the séance tonight?” she asked excitedly.

  “Calling Ceremony,” Eve corrected.

  Without warning, a flash of bright light erupted from the crystal band around my wrist, shooting amber sparks into the air. They rose to the heights of our heads, dying like shooting stars before hitting the ground.

  “That's it,” Eve said, yanking on the door handle. “I'm going in.” She tried for several seconds before kicking it instead.

  “Don't you have a key?” I asked.

  “I don’t carry his key on me, Maggie. What do I look like, a doorman?”

  “Ah, hell. Ruth Anne?”

  “Not me.” Ruth Anne moved to the window, tugging at the corners in hopes of sliding it open. All the while, my wand's manic glow continued its steady hum.

  “Merry has a key.” I pulled out my phone to call her. With any luck she was still nearby. As I dialed, the phone buzzed in my hand and Shane Doler's name flashed across the screen.

  I dropped the wand without a further thought and quickly answered the phone. “Hello? Hello, Shane?”

  “Maggie.” It was almost a whisper and I couldn't be sure it was his voice.

  “Shane? Is that you? Where are you?” Another whisper, this one, indecipherable, followed by a series of beeps and whistles, and then a long line of static. “Shane! Shane!” I pushed my ear to the receiver and hit the speaker button. There was another beep amid the static, before dying altogether.

  I called him back. No answer. I tried again. And again.

  My calls went straight to voice mail.

  “Let me try on mine.” Eve pulled out her phone. “No luck,” she shook her head. “Sorry, Maggie.”

  I gave up trying to call, and texted him in all capital letters. “PLEASE CALL!!!”

  We huddled around my cell like it were the last ember in a dying camp fire. Ten minutes later, and still no response.

  “This isn't good,” Ruth Anne said, as she retrieved my lifeless wand from the ground. I tapped it against the palm of my hand but the end no longer glowed. Ruth Anne's beeper had quieted too.

  “The spirit activity has stopped,” I said. “This can't be good. Ah, hell!”

  “Why do you keep saying that?” Ruth Anne asked.

  “Saying what?”

  “Ah, hell.” She ran her hands through her mop of hair, mussing it even more than usual.

  “I don't know,” I lied. “Haven't I always said it?”

  “No, Maggie,” Eve said. “You never used to say that. This is new.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Somebody to Love

  We would have to wait until the following evening to gather Shane’s things, when Eve had her key. We would perform the ritual at dusk, using the moon to aid us.

  It was a risky spell, requiring tons of protective energy, and Ruth Anne promised to spend the evening researching the precautions we needed to take. For some reason, this particular ritual made normally easygoing Ruth Anne angsty, and she insisted we do it right, lest we “summon shit that shouldn’t be summoned.”

  Quietly, the three of us trudged home, not speaking of the spirit activity around Dip Stix or the mysterious call from Shane. But our nerves were frazzled, and we jumped when an owl hooted at us from atop a tree branch.

  From time to time, I took a reassuring glance at the ring on my hand. It was real. That meant Shane was still out there and okay. I had to believe that.

  Once at Sister House, Ruth Anne and I collapsed onto the couch. Eve went upstairs to call Paul and Nova. Merry was still away, presumably with Michael. The house, usually abuzz with activity, was as quiet as a Sunday morning.

  “TV?” I asked Ruth Anne.

  “Always.”

  We settled on a black and white Frankenstein movie and tore open a bag of kettle corn Ruth Anne had purchased in town. I took one bite and was struck by the memory of Shane and I, eating kettle corn on a bench, just before he told me the news that he was leaving.

  “I’m sure it’s not Shane,” Ruth Anne said, interrupting my thoughts.

  “What’s not Shane?”

  “The spirit activity we detected at Dip Stix. I’m sure Shane’s not haunting his own café.”

  “Thanks, Ruth Anne. I hadn’t even thought of that. Now it’s in my head.”

  “Like I said,” she replied, licking the tips of her fingers. “I’m sure it’s not Shane.”

  “But, how do you know?”

  She bridged her fingers together, her index fingers forming a point. “When you lose someone you love, you feel it...in your stomach, in your throat, in your chest.” She thumped her heart and swallowed loud enough for me to hear. “You don’t feel any of that, do you?”

  “No, I guess I don’t. It’s more of an uneasy feeling. But it’s still horrible not knowing for sure.” Ruth Anne was staring straight ahead, lost in her own thoughts, and I asked, “You’ve lost someone, haven’t you?”

  Her nod was slow and cautious, like a drawbridge lowering only after careful deliberation. Her eyes moistened and she removed her glasses, then squeezed them shut.

  “Ruth Anne?”

  She swallowed again as her fingers clawed at the hem of her baggy shirt. With a defeated shrug and a quick swipe of her fore
head, she regained her composure and answered me. “Yes, Maggie. I loved and lost. And when she was gone, I felt it everywhere in my body. No one had to tell me what had happened.”

  “She?” I was caught off guard by the news, every aspect of it.

  “Yes, I said she. I loved her and she loved me and things were great. But in the blink of an eye, everything changed.”

  “What happened?”

  Ruth Anne shoved the heels of her hands into her eyes, rubbing them, holding back the tears. “She died. In a fire. I was there and there was nothing I could do to save her. That was one of the reasons I didn’t come back sooner. I needed time.”

  “Oh, Ruth Anne. I’m so sorry. Here I am wallowing in my own self-pity and…”

  “And nothing! That was years ago and I’m fine now.” She turned, staring at me directly. “Merry and Eve aren’t aware of this and I’d prefer to keep it quiet for now. The only reason I told you is because I wanted you to know that I felt it the second she was gone. It was like half my soul emptied out. And if anything happened to Shane, you would know it too. When that cord is severed, you feel like a puppet who’s lost her strings.” She put her glasses back on and forced a smile. “And if you tell anyone what I said, I’ll never share my kettle corn again. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  I took another handful, mulling over what she had told me. My seemingly carefree sister had once loved a woman––and had tragically lost her. We all had secrets, carrying them around like heavy stones. Sometimes, telling just one person lightened the load.

  I took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

  “Well, fuck,” she said. “Now I’m depressed. Way to go, Maggie.”

  “That’s me. Little Maggie Sunshine.”

  “Well, stop it.” She threw a piece of popcorn at my face, which I nimbly caught in my mouth. “Impressive,” she said, patting my head. Then her brows lowered and she looked me up and down. “You feel warm. Like really warm. You okay?”

  I touched my face. It was damp and sticky, as if I had just gotten out of the sauna. “I feel fine,” I said, checking my cheeks. “It must have been the walk home. This extra weight makes everything more difficult.”