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

by April Aasheim

  We entered the center of the garden labyrinth. Three flaming torches were set into the earth. A stately woman with hourglass proportions was already there. She wore a filmy gown and her hair was bound on top of her head in heavy looping braids. “Demi?” I asked, recognizing her. She was the poet from Cernunnos’ realm.

  Demi ignored me, folding her arms as she regarded Persephone. “I heard you! You act like I ruined your life. You’d think I was making you stay with me the entire year.”

  “Nine months, Mother!.” Persephone raised her hands in frustration. “And when I do visit, you’re always complaining about not having any grandchildren, yet you don’t give me enough time to make them! Conception’s changed a lot since you and Daddy had me.”

  “It’s just as well. I’d hardly see them, anyway. Persephone, why do you hate me?”

  “Oh, Mother! Don’t be dramatic. You know I don’t hate you!” Persephone hugged her. “I just need a break, that’s all. I was sharing our story to make our guest feel less terrible about her own family.”

  Demi turned, finally acknowledging me. She tilted her head, studying me until recognition snapped in her eyes. “I am glad to see you safely away from Cernunnos! I apologize for my consort’s behavior. I would have warned you earlier, had the wine not caught up to me. Please send my apologies to your nubile sister.”

  I shifted from foot to foot, exasperated. “Persephone, you promised to show me the way to Armand in exchange for a future favor. I accept. I don’t think I have much time.”

  Demi laughed. “You mean Cronos? He’s been gone for years. Relax.” A glass of wine appeared in her hand and she lifted it, winking. “You get all the time you want here, darling. All you have to do is ask.”

  “I need to go back,” I said, moving past Persephone. Coming here was turning out to be as disappointing as going to Eagle Mountain. And I wanted to return to the others before they got worried.

  “Wait,” Demi stopped me. “We cannot allow your child to be raised by Armand in the Netherworld. He is gaining too much power already. I forbid it.”

  “Then help me get him! I don’t think Armand intends on raising my son. He owes the Dark One. If the deal goes through, things will get worse for all of us.”

  Demi considered my words. “What you say may be true, but Hecate specifically told me not to intervene. She has the gift of divination. If she says to stay out of this, we should.”

  Persephone put up her hand. “Hecate also told you to stop looking for me, do you remember? But you kept on, anyway, because I was your daughter. Just because it’s messy, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”

  Demi shrugged, pulling a torch from its holder. A dog howled from somewhere beyond the garden. “Even if I could, it is not up to me. We would need Hecate herself to open that portal. Tartarus is not accessible, even to Hades.”

  “Tartarus?” I asked, saying it slowly.

  “Hell,” Persephone said. “Very few that go there ever return, with the exception of your father and a few others. It is for VIPs only, and Hecate is one of the few who can navigate the crossroads. And Mother is one of the few who has access to Hecate.”

  “Please,” I said, turning to Demi.

  “Please,” Persephone echoed.

  “Fine! But if she’s cranky, it’s on you.” Demi drew a circle with her slippered foot around one of the torches. She lifted a chain from her neck, with a golden key attached, and spoke words beneath her breath. A column of mist rose up around the torch, and when it cleared, an old woman with scraggly gray hair and one glass eye stood before us.

  Hecate? Except for the colorless eye, there was no resemblance to the beautiful young tree guardian I had met before.

  “Persephone! Demeter! Why hast thou summoned me? I was in the middle of important work.” The woman thrust a sharpened stave into the dirt, sniffing at them with her hooked nose.

  “Cut the crap, Hecate. I know you were just taking a nap,” Demeter said. “Maggie needs help finding her baby and you’re the only one with a key.”

  Hecate turned my way, pretending to notice me for the first time. Her face was lined and ancient. The lines on the back of her hands bulged like worms. She had lost all semblance of her earlier beauty. But as I studied her face, I recognized her from somewhere else. “Are you one of the Fates, too?” I asked, remembering the middle witch who had advised us on destiny.

  “Yes. It was supposed to be a part-time job, but it sucks up most of my life. But someone has to do it.” She sighed, her thin shoulders slumping. “I have given you advice already, which you ignored, and I have given you an apple, which you have used inappropriately. Why should I give you the key?”

  “She’s grumpy when she’s in her Crone phase,” Demeter said, “but for some reason she seems to like that form the best.”

  “It keeps people away,” Hecate grumbled.

  “Maiden, Mother, and Crone,” I said, understanding.

  “Took you long enough.” Hecate snorted, lifting her tattered clothes and shuffling forward. “Without time, you are not limited as to who you can be. You can be all ages at once. It is one of my few consolations here in the Netherworld.” She coughed into her fist and looked up at the night sky. “If you were seeking your daughter, it would make my decision easier. But another man walking around…there are so many already. The world has become a dangerous place under their rule.”

  “You are being dramatic,” Demeter said. “I think you’ve been hanging around Lilith too much lately.”

  “Am I the one being dramatic about the ways of men? Why is it then that you wrote that poem? Yes, it was long ago, but I still remember it! Shall I recite?” Without waiting for an invitation, Hecate cleared her throat and tapped her walking stick on the ground. Her appearance instantly changed, transforming into the beautiful young tree guardian I remembered, with thick hair and creamy skin and milky white eyes. Her voice drifted through the air.

  The witch is burning on her cross

  Flames mirrored within her eyes.

  Another maiden has been lost

  To the Darklings battle cry.

  Villagers cast stones and names

  As they call out her sins.

  They didn’t see this was the way

  To let the Darklings in.

  Her body is taken down,

  The death stench fills the air.

  A child laughs within the crowd.

  He is his father’s heir.

  Festivities are over now.

  They lie in slumber deep,

  With memories of the day’s events

  Embroidered through their sleep.

  In the Netherworld, a Darkling laughs.

  His work ‘above’ is done.

  Wrong is right and right is wrong,

  The framework has begun.

  Hecate bowed at the waist, then stamped her staff and returned to her Crone form.

  “I was drinking the night I wrote that,” Demeter said. “I just made it up on the spot.”

  “I heard you rehearsing it beforehand.”

  “Did not!”

  “Did too!”

  The two powerful women looked at each other, then collapsed against one another in a fit of laughter.

  “The point is that men cannot be trusted,” Hecate said, regaining her composure. “Maggie, you should stay with us. We need more strong women in the Netherworld. We will find your son and you can raise him here, among us. We will beat the filth of his gender out of his heart.”

  “I’m not sure how long you’ve been down here, but the world has changed. Most of the men I know are good people,” I said, thinking of Shane, and Paul and Michael. And my son.

  “They are until they aren’t,” Demeter shrugged.

  “I won’t let my son feel he isn’t worthy because of his gender,” I said. “Sasha and my Aunt Dora didn’t trust men either, but even they started to come around.”

  Hecate pulled her cloak back on and regarded me with her glass eye. “Sasha? Dora? F
rom Dark Root? Do you know them?”

  “Don’t you keep up with anything from the Upper World?” Persephone asked her.

  “Who has time!” she said, with a wave of her hand.

  “Sasha was my adopted mother, and Dora my adopted aunt,” I answered.

  “I knew them, in another lifetime…” Her eye drifted. “They are good strong women, though Sasha had some rogue notions I did not care for. But they are honorable. Because you are kin to them, I shall take your request more seriously. Give me a fortnight and you shall have my answer.”

  “Whatever a fortnight is, I’m sure I don’t have that much time!” I said. “Every moment that my newborn son is with Larinda or Armand is one more moment that may seal his fate forever.”

  Hecate shambled back towards Demeter, looking up at her. “You are the protector of newborns and the lost. This clearly falls under your jurisdiction.”

  “Clearly,” Demeter said. “But this case is special. I cannot pass through the portal to Tartarus, and also, as you must remember, Magdalene is the Seed Bringer.”

  Hecate scowled as she studied me, her gaze resting on my skirt pocket.

  “The seed must flourish or the Netherworld fails as well,” Persephone said. “And I do not believe that can happen until she finds her son. I have seen it in the scrying pool.”

  Until I find my son. Was that why I hadn’t felt the call to plant the seed yet? Was Montana’s survival linked to their survival as well? I stood taller, now sure they would help me.

  Hecate waved her hand. “What do I care? I am old and tired. I just want to tend my tree alone, until the final days.”

  “You wouldn’t say that in your younger guise,” Demeter answered. “And the End of Days will come much faster if we allow Armand to continue growing in power. You have more than a hand in fate - you have seen what happens if we do not intervene. As above, so below. Do not throw us into another Burning Time just because of your stubbornness.”

  “Fate? The boy’s fate is sealed! And it must be important, for even I have not seen it. There is no room for a change of course.”

  “You said his fate would come about with me or without me,” I said. “Help me and I will do my best to raise my son well.”

  We all looked at Hecate. She sighed, and her sigh became a thick cough. “We shall ask the winds.” Hecate snapped her fingers and a signpost appeared between the torches. There were three arrows, pointing in opposing directions. The old witch rubbed her hands together, then blew into her cupped palms. She then tapped on the signpost three times. The arrows spun, slowly at first, and then became a blur. When they eventually stopped, all three were pointing in the same direction.

  Hecate coughed again and straightened her cloak. “The winds have spoken,” she said. “We will guide you to the Crossing, but that is all. We cannot escort you beyond Hade’s realm. But if you insist, we need to hurry! The veil grows thinner by the hour. When the moon sets, the portal will close.”

  I looked up. The moon was descending towards the horizon.

  Hecate drew three spiral symbols in the earth with the point of her staff. Around the spirals, she drew a single circle.

  “My Wheel,” she said. “Or Will, as the case may be. It is a very powerful symbol, used only by me and my initiates. It is a key that unlocks many portals, but you must be trained to call it up. Your fool of a father got hold of my symbol and used it without educating himself first. That is part of the reason for our current mess, because it gave him access to the Dark One.”

  She looked at me, as if seeing searching for any traces of my father in me. She spit onto her thumb, then placed it on my forehead. “Protection. None but the heartiest men have come back from Tartarus intact. And most of those suffer madness or bear the Dark One’s mark.”

  “What about women?” I asked.

  Hecate scoffed. “Why would a woman go there? Except to help someone escape. Even Lilith finds the place inhospitable. No matter what has been said about the evils of women, Hell is a true boy’s club.”

  “I have opened your portal but time is short. We will escort you and your friends to Nyx. She will help you complete your journey.”

  “What about the hellhounds,” Persephone asked. “They should come with us.”

  “Yes, let us bring them!” Demeter agreed.

  She stamped her staff and the trappings of the labyrinth fell away. We were now standing with my companions, who were startled by our sudden appearance.

  “Whoa! Give us a little warning next time, will you?” Ruth Anne asked, taking a step back.

  “This is the witch Hecate,” I quickly explained. “And Queen Persephone and her mother, the goddess-.”

  “Demeter!” Ruth Anne and Paul said together. Eve’s reaction was venomous, as she studied the impossible curves on both Persephone’s and Demeter’s bodies.

  “I remember this cutie from the feast. What’s your name, honey?” Demeter asked Paul, sizing him up. Her gauzy gown seemed even more transparent now. Paul blushed beneath her approving gaze.

  “He’s mine,” Eve said, stepping forward, which surprised Paul, since the two had hardly spoken since their memory reveals. Eve didn’t match Demeter in stature, but her shadow made up for it, growing in both length and proportions, until it rivaled even the shapeliest of women. Demeter smiled, as if the trick were cute.

  “Mother, remember when we talked about true love?” Persephone said. “You are not supposed to interfere.”

  “True love? What do these two know of true love? All I see is jealousy, suspicion and pettiness. This is not the way of true love.”

  “They are learning.”

  “That is the problem with mortals – they are always learning. As soon as they learn their lessons, their time is done.” She blew a tendril of hair from her face.

  “The moon is low,” Persephone said. She pointed to the brightest star in the sky. “That is Nyx. She will appear when the moon and the horizon meet. She only makes one trip a night, so we must hurry if you are to embark this evening.”

  “I don’t like this,” Shane whispered to me. “You don’t know these women. They could be leading us to…”

  “To where?” Hecate said, with a shrug, overhearing him. “Won’t anyplace be better than limbo?”

  “I suppose,” he admitted.

  “Now let us not dally or the boat will leave without us. Let us fly.”

  We followed Hecate, who ran with surprising grace and speed along the river. Persephone and Demeter carried their torches. A silver chain appeared in Demeter’s hand, attached to two snarling dogs - the hellhounds, who barked and bit and howled at the fading night. The air felt surprisingly light, lacking the usual pull of gravity, and I felt like I was swimming rather than running.

  “Witch’s dust,” Persephone explained our swiftness. “Made of moon dust and fairy magick. Witches once used it to ride on their brooms in the Upper World, when there were more fairies than today.”

  Persephone noticed my frown. “Don’t worry. They are returning. They have been hiding for a millennium, waiting and preparing.”

  “Waiting for what?” I asked, but she pulled too far ahead. The field became a forest, which gave way to rolling hills. Our feet hardly touched the ground as we raced to beat the moon.

  “For there not being any time in the Netherworld, it sure feels like we’re always rushing around,” Ruth Anne said.

  Our pace was forcefully slowed as we encountered a thick fog that even the blazing torches couldn’t cut through. Rumbling growls emerged from the mist, spooking even the hellhounds, who whimpered and tucked their tails between their legs.

  “Some guards you are,” Demeter scolded her dogs as three sets of yellow eyes peered at us from the fog. The torches revealed accompanying sets of sharp, yellow fangs. The beasts growled and snarled as they stepped from their cover.

  “No wonder the hounds are afraid. We’ve got Netherwolves!” Demeter said, thrusting out her flame. “Someone really wants to stop
you,” she said.

  “Don’t show fear.” Persephone said, stepping forward and brandishing her own torch. The beasts were twice as large as the hellhounds, muscled and quick. One braver wolf stepped into Persephone’s torch arc, singing its fur. It yelped and receded back into the mist, but two other wolves moved up to take its place. “Fear makes them hungry,” Persephone continued. “One bite, or even a mark from their foul claws, will surely kill you.”

  “Move back!” Hecate commanded the wolves. “Or I’ll send you someplace even worse than hell.” Their growling deepened into what sounded like menacing laughter.

  “Our magick is no match for them,” Demeter said.

  “But you are goddesses.”

  “And these are the pets of the Dark One. They are his eyes and ears. He won’t let anything happen to them. They are untouchable.”

  “We’re screwed,” Eve said.

  I readied my wand as the eyes and fangs advanced, circling us. Even Hecate appeared hesitant. “Something is wrong. The wolves are supposed to be hibernating now,” she said, pushing one back with her stave. The wolf whimpered, and retaliated with a sharp snap of his teeth. Demeter’s hellhounds crowded in protectively around the old witch, snapping their teeth defensively. They may not be able to best the larger animals, but they weren’t going to let anything happen to their guardians, either.

  The hulking Netherwolves licked their lips, discerning who among us was weakest. “My staff, two torches and these hellhounds won’t hold them for long,” Hecate said. “We need more.”

  Shane pulled out his pocketknife; it glinted in the flickering torchlight, giving the wolves pause.

  “They think your knife is silver,” said Persephone. “Silver is the only thing Netherwolves really. Let’s run while they are distracted.”