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

by April Aasheim

  “What truth?” I asked aloud.

  “THE TRUTH!”

  I fumbled through my pocket and found the apple. It was still mostly intact, and one more nibble couldn’t hurt.

  “As above, so below,” another voice said, followed by a chorus of chortles and giggles.

  I took a careful bite, and waited.

  And then there were ripples upon the water.

  I looked at my river image once more. It shifted, bleeding outwards like watercolor across a canvas. My coarse red hair became smooth chestnut brown. My pale skin tanned, and the spray of freckles across my cheeks faded. My nose rounded and my chin softened. Yet my eyes were the same.

  “Jillian,” I whispered, peering closer.

  The image panned back. Jillian was in full view, holding a baby in the nursery of Sister House. When I saw the red hair, I thought it was Montana. She nuzzled the child’s cheek and said a few words, then drew a magick circle.

  “There, there, my daughter,” she said, rocking the baby.

  Daughter?

  “I give you half my breath,” Jillian said, kissing the baby’s mouth. “Now, I will always be able to watch over you, no matter where you are.’

  Half her breath? What did that mean?

  I wanted to see more, but the image shifted. Now I saw Miss Sasha staring back at me, as she looked when I was young, with a large frame and only a few strands of gray in her hair.

  She sat in the parlor of Sister House, her ankles crossed as she sipped her tea. She sat opposite another woman, whose face was blocked from me.

  “She’ll be the end of us all,” the other woman said, slamming her tea cup onto her saucer. “You know it as well as I do.”

  “That’s not what I see in her future,” Sasha said.

  “You are only focusing on one timeline, but many others still forming because of your stubbornness. I’ve divined some of them, and they are grim indeed. Sasha, I beg you to reconsider.”

  “I will not!” Sasha firmly put her cup on the table and leaned forward, leveling a pointed finger at the woman. “She needs protection. And we need protection from her. We can’t let her loose in the world without training. Not with her father out there. I will raise her and that is that.”

  “One wrong step and she’ll go down the left-hand path,” the woman warned, standing to leave. “And then we’ll have another Armand on our hands.” She turned and mumbled. “Or worse.”

  The image shifted back to my face, before morphing again. The eyes remained and the hair retained an autumn hue - only shorter and wavy rather than long and curly. My face narrowed, my chin squared, and my brow thickened.

  “No,” I whimpered, as a cowboy hat replaced my moon crown. A hat that now sat above my father’s face.

  “Can you blame me for not wanting to be a father?” he asked, pushing his hat down over his forehead. “Do you see what parenting does to you? It sucks the life right out of you, and it makes you forget who you even used to be.”

  This was not a memory. Armand was speaking directly to me.

  “Go back Maggie, and leave the Netherworld. Return to your carefree existence, before you were burdened with a child. It’s not selfish. It’s only natural.”

  “Go to hell!” He may have walked away from me, but I wouldn’t walk away from my child. I scooped up a handful of rocks and scattered them across the water, breaking the image.

  I will not become my father.

  “Or will you?” the voice asked.

  I shivered, suddenly cold. I wanted to return home, and have Jillian and Aunt Dora wrap me in their shawls and tell me it’s okay. I wanted to be a daughter again, not an adult.

  I lifted the ankh from its chain around my neck and squeezed it in my hands. I would never abandon my son. Never. I’d battle the devil himself to get Montana back, and if the devil happened to be my father, so be it.

  “Jillian,” I whispered. “I hope you’re still watching over me. I need you.” I massaged the ankh, repeating my prayer. Even if I couldn’t see her, it comforted me to know she was out there somewhere, guiding me, as promised in the vision.

  “Maggie!”

  It was a clear voice this time – and one I recognized. I turned, wary of more tricks and illusions. A man ran down along the river bank, straight for me.

  Shane lifted me from the ground and swept me in his arms. “It’s really you! Oh, Maggie. Thank God!” he said.

  “How?” I asked, seeing my sisters and Paul and Michael behind him.

  “I was following the moon, and suddenly got a read on you. You must have been looking at it, too?”

  “Yes. That was fast.”

  “Fast?” he shook his head. “It took me forever to find you. But I was so happy I didn’t even mind seeing Michael again.”

  I wished I hadn’t shattered the image of my future husband in the river. I was now certain it was Shane all along. “We were destined to be together,” I said.

  “I’ve always known that. Now let’s get going. I know the way to the next gate. It’s not far at all.”

  I took his hand. Merry and Eve exchanged worried glances, though Michael looked unconcerned. I wondered if Shane had already gone through his gate. I hoped he had. I didn’t want to think of him as anything but perfect.

  “How’d you get free?” I asked.

  “I have no idea. One moment I was swarmed, the next, everyone was running a way and I made a break for it. Must have been my lucky horseshoe.”

  “See!” Ruth Anne grinned as we marched for our next portal. “He’s Shane-Frickin’- Doler.”

  11

  The Wheel

  “Well, aren’t you pretty?”

  The man brushed Eve’s hair away from her shoulder, tucking it behind her ear, and then brought it back to her face, as if he couldn’t decide which he liked best. She held still, in the way she did when her mother fixed her hair for school pictures. He stood back, examining his work.

  “Exquisite, actually,” he continued, as if she were a piece of artwork. “Exotic yet familiar. I’ve never seen anyone who looks quite like you.” He lifted her chin to get a better look. “Have you considered color contacts? They look great in photos.”

  Eve shrugged, and in doing so, loosened herself from the man’s hold. She glanced at her friend, Babs, standing beside her - a pretty French woman ten years her senior. Babs had brought Eve to Zach, assuring her that he was a ‘good guy and a reputable agent,’ the kind that could get her name out to all of New York. And beyond.

  But for being such a high-profile agent, he didn’t dress to impress. His jeans hadn’t seen a washing in weeks, and his beat-up fedora was older than she was. His office was a jumble of open cardboard boxes filled with files and foreign magazine covers featuring smiling young women with big hair and teeth.

  “He’s eccentric and foreign,” Babs had said of Zach, on their way to his studio. “He’ll take a minute to get used to.”

  Eve checked her watch. She had to open the diner in less than five hours. “Can we hurry this up?” she asked. “If I don’t get some beauty rest before my shift, my tips – and the customers – are going to suffer.”

  Babs laughed. “I told you she was funny, Zach.” Then she looked at Eve. “Honey, when Zach is done with you, you’ll never have to worry about rotting away in some dive diner, ever again.”

  Eve’s eyelashes fluttered thoughtfully. She hoped it was true. Waiting tables was not the future she had envisioned for herself when she moved to New York. If Zach could help her catch her break, it would be worth missing a night’s sleep. But then again, if Zach was so amazing, why was Babs still waiting tables?

  She gave Babs a discreet once over. The woman didn’t have Eve’s fine bone structure, or her figure or hair, for that matter. She was very pretty, but she wasn’t Eve. The answer satisfied Eve’s inner nagging voice, and she returned her attention to Zach.

  “I’ll call Gerry in Angeles. I’m betting he can get you work right away, if we get your head shots
to him soon.”

  “You’ll love Gerry,” Babs assured her. “He got me several shampoo gigs and a skin care ad. But he also casts for soap operas. Eve’s pretty enough to be in a soap opera, isn’t she, Zach?”

  “Oh, definitely! Especially if she can act a little.”

  A little? Eve harrumphed. She was born for the stage.

  “Babs, can I have a word?” Zach asked. She nodded and joined him near the open window, where the sounds of traffic, sirens, and catcalls rang through. While the two spoke, Eve busied herself studying the magazine covers framed on the wall. The models were pretty, but none was as breathtaking as she was. If those women could grace a cover, imagine what she could do.

  Her phone buzzed. It was her sister Merry calling, and she tossed it back into her purse without answering. She hadn’t talked to Merry since leaving Dark Root, and was pissed that her sister wanted to talk now – right when her life was finally about to change for the better. No, she would talk to her older sister, later, but only after she became a star. Then she’d talk to them all in person, rolling into Dark Root with a shiny new car and a personal shopper.

  “Great news!” Babs said, returning as Zach disappeared into the hallway. “He likes you. Says you’re a diamond in the rough.”

  “In the rough?” Eve said, indignant. She wasn’t rough. She was elegant and sophisticated. But then again, he did call her a ‘diamond.’

  Her phone buzzed again. “Who’s that?” Babs asked. “I thought no one but me had your new number.”

  “You and my sister.”

  “You have a sister?”

  “Three. But I haven’t seen them in a few years.”

  The phone continued to ring. “Maybe you should turn it off while we’re in our meeting.” Babs suggested.

  Why was Merry calling so insistently, Eve wondered? Had something happened to their mother or aunt? Her fingers twitched, but she wouldn’t think of it now. She had to focus on her career. If bad news was coming, she’d need some good news to buffer it. She reached into her purse and silenced her phone.

  “Where is Zach?” Eve asked, after fifteen minutes had passed. The sirens outside were so frequent in this neighborhood that Eve couldn’t distinguish one from another.

  “He went to get his camera so he could see how you photograph. You’re thin, but curvy, and the camera will either work with that or against it.”

  “He thinks I might look fat in my photos,” Eve said, dryly.

  Babs chuckled. “I doubt you’d ever look anything less than perfect.” She smiled sweetly, staring at her as usually only men did.

  Zack returned with a video camera, a digital camera, and a tripod. “Almost ready,” he said, pulling down the window shades and dimming the overhead lights. He set up several backdrop screens, and props to go with them.

  “This looks like it’s going to take a while,” Eve said, trying not to look at her watch.

  Babs might be confident she’d be able to quit her job, but Eve wasn’t so sure. Even Elizabeth Taylor probably had to wait a few weeks before the dollars came rolling in. And if Eve didn’t have the rent again, there was little chance she could convince her slumlord to give her another month.

  “Okay, sweetheart, let’s start simple,” Zach said. “Sit on that stool over there in front of the summer-fun backdrop. And hold this can of orange soda. That’s it! Smile, like it was the most refreshing thing in the world.”

  Eve despised orange soda, but she was an actress as well as a model. She put on her brightest grin, jutting out her chest and tilting her head back. As if the sun worshipped her, and she worshipped the can of soda. She smiled at the camera over her shoulder, a look that never failed to break men’s hearts or make women hate her.

  “Brilliant! You’re a natural!” Zack said, scratching his chin through his graying beard. “Since we have the summer backdrop set up, we should try a beach scene next. Babs said you are comfortable wearing a bathing suit?”

  He pointed to three bikinis hanging on a doorknob, all with the tags still attached. Eve nodded and chose a thin-stringed, yellow two-piece. She changed behind an accordion screen while Zach and Babs arranged the props. When she returned, she was instructed to sit on a towel surrounded by beach balls. Zach handed her a bottle of suntan oil to hold, then began directing. “Bigger smile. More dimples. Fewer dimples. Fluff your hair. Put the bottle against your cheek. Beautiful. Fucking beautiful!”

  The lights were hotter than Eve had imagined, and the work harder. “Have some water,” Babs said during a backdrop change. Eve guzzled the bottle while Babs dabbed her forehead with a hand towel. She would finish this shoot, then hit the sack, and make up for lost sleep after her morning shift. Or maybe she would just call in sick.

  When they resumed the shoot, Babs rubbed oil on her back as Zach continued taking pictures. “You look so beautiful,” Babs whispered in her ear.

  Zach paused with the camera, contemplating the scene. “Babs, can you untie just the top string of her bikini? Eve, let the top fall but keep one hand across your… chest, and hold the oil in your other hand. Then say, ‘Nothing comes between me and a great tan.’”

  Eve blinked, but then remembered he was European. If she modeled overseas she’d need to bare more than just her cleavage. Babs loosened the string and Eve did as instructed, though she had trouble delivering the line.

  “More water,” Babs insisted, as Eve fanned herself.

  Hours ticked by, and Eve knew she wouldn’t make her shift. It didn’t matter. She felt giddy now, under their constant assurances of her beauty.

  But then Zach made a face. A disapproving face.

  “Did I do something wrong?” Eve asked.

  “You weren’t smiling in the last few shots.”

  “It was hot.”

  “Do you think acting and modeling is about comfort?” he asked, raising his voice.

  “Huh?”

  “Well, do you?”

  Eve looked around, unnerved by his drastic change of temperament. Everything had been going so well. Had she blown her chance?

  Babs intervened. “Zach, you’re just tired. It’s been a long day. Have a drink. Eve, forgive him. Temperamental artists, you know. He’s all bark, I promise. When you see his pictures, you’ll love him like I do.” With that, Babs left the room and returned with three glasses of wine.

  They toasted and drank, then resumed the shoot just as dawn broke. Zach promised to not let his exhaustion get the best of him, and Eve promised to try harder. But whether because she hadn’t slept in nearly 24 hours, or from the heat of the lamps or the buzz from the wine, Eve began to feel dizzy. Her mind wandered, as if she were slipping into a dream.

  But it was a happy, delirious sort of dream, where things morphed and changed and she was going to be a star.

  Zach replaced the backdrop with a new one. A boudoir set, he called it, and suddenly there was a bed that looked too big to have possibly fit through the door. An end table and lamp were brought in by two muscular men. They were wearing red satin shorts and nothing else.

  “Huh?” Eve asked, though she didn’t protest as she was escorted to the bed.

  “We have lingerie,” Zach said cheerfully. “Though I think for European markets, we’re better off without it. All you have to do is look beautiful and have fun.” He smiled reassuringly. “You can do that for me, can’t you, Eve?”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, her eyelids drooping.

  She was helped out of her bathing suit, lulled by the collective ‘oohs and aahs’ about her exquisite beauty. The men’s hands traveled along her hips and navel, then up her arms and around the folds of her ears. The lights dimmed further. One man kissed Eve. And then the other.

  She wasn’t even surprised when Babs removed her own top and joined them on the bed, kissing Eve fervently. Zach took pictures and ran his video recorder. They all took turns kissing, touching, and fondling one another. All their attention was focused on Eve.

  She was queen of the world.
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  Her bliss was only interrupted by the periodic vibrations of her phone in her purse.

  “Where are those videos?” Paul demanded once we were through the portal. “Eve, where are the goddamned videos?”

  His fists were in his hair, yanking as he paced. His face was the color of the unsettling dusky red sky, which looked as if there were a wildfire raging in the distance. He stopped periodically to question her, or to launch an accusation. “What did you do? How could you? What else don’t I know?”

  I looked at Eve’s ashen face. Her long lashes swept the tops of her cheeks. She trembled, and for once I felt truly sorry for my little sister.

  Paul was so distraught, which caught me off guard. He was always so cool and collected, hardly speaking unless offering up retro trivia or answering a direct question. His piercing eyes bore into Eve’s, as his lower jaw slid from side to side while he stormed about.

  “I don’t know what Zach did with the videos,” Eve admitted, finally breaking his stare.

  “You told me they never existed!” Paul violently rebutted. “When my friends were all telling me they’d seen you on the internet, you lied to me and said they were mistaken. They told me to watch it, that I’d see for myself, but I believed you, Eve. I believed you because I loved you.”

  “It wasn’t me,” she said. “Or at least, it wasn’t Eve Maddock.”

  “So you think a stage name absolves you? I trusted you.” Paul held a finger near her chin, daring her to look away. “Do you know how that makes me feel?”

  “Probably the same way I felt when I learned about the dead twin you never told me about. Betrayed.”

  “This is different.”

  “No, it’s not. I didn’t hurt or abandon anyone, other than myself. If you’d calm down, you’d see that.”

  Ruth Anne stepped forward, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Paul, she was either very exhausted or slipped something. You can’t blame her. Can’t you see how bad she feels?”

  “She didn’t look like she felt bad when those two men were… I’m just glad we never got to see that part of the highlight. Although I bet I can rent it for $2.99 with a major credit card.”