“Tell me I’m crazy.” Michael almost begged. “I couldn't go back to sleep until I knew for sure.”
I didn’t want him in my life, not when I was almost emotionally free of him. But I couldn’t bring myself to lie to him either.
With hesitation, I said, “Yes, Michael. I’m pregnant.”
“I’m the father?”
“God, yes! Why the hell would you ask that?”
“Oh, Maggie. That’s wonderful news. I’ll go there, or you can come here and we can raise this baby.” He made plans for us, rattling off a list of things we could do and places we could go. South America, where there was a religious revival, or maybe Africa, where the natives were hungry for “The Word”
“No, Michael.” I stopped him. “Absolutely not. I’m staying here and I’m raising the baby alone.”
“I have rights, too.” His voice shook. “I will take you to court, if I have to.”
I laughed. “I’m sure the courts will entrust a baby into the care of a certified stalker.”
“That’s not fair, Maggie! You probably did that to me.”
“Yeah? Prove it.”
I could have taken it easier on him. He was under Eve’s spell at the time. He was also under a spell when he had succumbed to Leah’s charms.
Still, I couldn’t forgive him, spell or no spell.
“Maggie, be reasonable. We can work this out.”
I felt my face flush. Who was he to tell me to be reasonable? He couldn't step back into my life and start demanding things.
“All I want from you,” I said, my throat tight and my voice short. “…Is money. Lots and lots of money. If your kid is anything like you, he’ll be eating me out of house and home. Send me money and you may get a picture on Christmas.”
“You can’t call the shots. There are laws.”
“Not in Dark Root.”
There was a pause on the other end. “I’m not sending you anything if you don’t let me see the baby, and that’s final.”
“I never expected anything from you, Michael, so it’s a moot point.” I was so angry I expected every light bulb up and down the hall outside to burst. I rubbed the crystal band on my wrist, soothing myself. The Circle hummed beneath my touch, sending tiny flecks of amber light into the dark, and calming me.
“Michael,” I said, once my heart rate returned to normal. “I have enough problems right now. Please leave me alone.”
“I can’t, Maggie.” His voice was soft but resolute. “I just can’t.” And he hung up the phone.
I relaxed in the bath, letting the warm water and Mr. Bubble wash over my body. Three Yankee candles flickered on a shelf, a soothing mixture of lavender, rose, and vanilla cupcake.
Between my adventure with Eve and arguing with Michael, I was fairly certain I would not get any sleep.
I’d been in this bathroom many times, mostly looking at pregnancy sticks or puking my brains out. This was my first bath here, my first time taking in the room’s ambiance.
It was as old and outdated as the rest of the house, with fading floral wallpaper––a violent conglomeration of pink carnations and red roses––that lined all four walls. The once-lovely pedestal sink was tinged with rust, and the ornate, brass frame that encased the mirror had been crudely duct taped together at its corners.
In the days when this house served as a bed and breakfast this must have been a beautiful room. I could almost envision the barrage of guests wandering in and out of it to wash their faces or brush their teeth at the beginning and ending of each day. Those days were long gone and the only remaining evidence of its former beauty was the claw-footed tub in which I lounged, an original fixture of the house, still white after almost a century’s worth of use.
I sunk deeper into the water, letting the bubbles cover my chin.
They didn’t make tubs this big anymore, I thought, stretching out my legs before me. I breathed in the steam, letting it clear my sinuses and my mind. As much as I hated to admit it, Eve was right. I hadn’t done very well at the pool game. I needed to get a better handle on my powers if I wanted to make this work.
I focused my attention on the top of the wallpaper straight in front of me, blocking all other thoughts from my mind.
“Peel,” I whispered, tugging mentally at the corner of the sheet. “Peel,” I said again, less a request and more of a command.
Nothing happened. I pressed my palms together in frustration. I might as well have tried to move a boulder.
Michael’s crystal pendant pulsed around my neck, a rhythmic thump like the beat of a heart. I grasped it with one hand and rubbed my bracelet with the thumb of my other hand. The pendant was sharp, but the bracelet smooth. The pendant shouted for attention while the bracelet purred beneath my touch.
“Let’s try this again,” I said, embarrassed to be talking to my own jewelry. I closed my eyes, imagining the wallpaper sliding off in one smooth piece, neatly bundling at the floor.
I concentrated, seeing it play out in my mind’s eye.
I heard a wispy sound. I opened one eye, and then the other. The paper began to move, not in a smooth fall but in waves, crinkling up like an earthworm on a walk. I gritted my teeth, willing the paper to fall. Finally, it loosened at the top edge and peeled away from the wall completely, dragging the rest of the strip to the floor with it.
For a century, this paper had held, and I had caused it to fall.
I was giddy with victory when the doorknob jiggled. I scooped the remaining bubbles over my body in case it was Paul.
“Occupied,” I called out.
The knob turned fully and the door creaked open.
“I’m in the tub,” I said louder. “If Michael called again, tell him I’m asleep.”
The door continued to push open, slowly, as if it were made of lead. “Hello?” I said, searching for a towel. “Eve?”
I heard a noise, like someone squeegeeing a car window on an icy morning. Words began to materialize in the steam-covered mirror: 123 Old Raven Rd.
“Go away!” I ordered, suddenly panicked. “Go away, now!”
The door slammed shut, knocking a candle from its perch. The sound of a woman’s laughter reverberated through the room. Every light in the bathroom went out and the remaining candles were doused.
An icy hand gripped my shoulder, pushing me down into the tub. I struggled as the water grew arctic cold.
“Help!” I managed to scream before my nose and mouth were submerged. I swallowed mouthfuls of soapy water as I sloshed around, fighting an invisible force.
The door flew open. Aunt Dora burst inside, brandishing her broom and tossing dust into the air. “I warned ya once, and that’s all ya get. Leave now or face me alone!”
The small window above the toilet opened and a long, formless gale marked by Aunt Dora’s glitter dust passed over me. The gale swirled momentarily, then rushed out the open window.
Aunt Dora was quick to close it and lock the latch.
“Ya okay?” she asked, handing me a towel.
“I-I think so.”
“Larinda’s bypassed the protection spell around the house. I don’t know how, but she’s grown in power.” Aunt Dora stared out the window, scratching her head. “Her magick is illusion and she feeds on fear. If she can’t make ya afraid, she has no power over ya.”
With shaking knees, I dried myself, aware of how truly afraid I’d been.
But the fear wasn’t for myself. It was for my unborn child.
Eleven
CRIMINAL
Aunt Dora added extra layers to her protection spell, then tried to reassure me. “Ya have yer mother’s bracelet. That should keep ya safe.”
“Why does she want me?”
“She enjoys her mind games. Have a brave heart. That’s the key ta foilin’ her.”
Despite her words, I was worried. Although I’d been raised in a coven, I’d never seen much magick. And here Larinda was, able to do things I never dreamed possible, and with ease. I only hop
ed Aunt Dora’s protection spells could match Larinda’s determination.
“Are you ready?” Eve asked, tapping her foot in my bedroom doorway as I tried to rake a comb through my wild mane. My hair was naturally curly but the pregnancy had made it frizzy, coarse, and completely unmanageable.
“You could be more understanding,” I said, pulling my hair into a ponytail at the nape of my neck. “I’m still traumatized.”
“Not as traumatized as I am by that outfit. No pregnant woman should ever put on a pair of jeggings.”
“Oh? Is that what these are?”
We had taken a trip to Linsburg earlier so Eve could grab a few supplies for the shop.
While she was out witch-doctoring, I had wandered into a Rite Aid.
I found a display that said: As Seen on TV. Beneath it were boxes of stretchy, one-size-fits-all jeans with elastic waists and tapered ankles. I thought Eve would think them fashionable, especially since they cost thirty bucks, but I guess I was wrong.
I didn’t need to dress to impress anyway. That was Eve’s job. She would lure them in and I would count the money.
The Watering Hole looked much the same as it did on our previous visit: peanut shells on the floor, torn vinyl booths, dim lighting, and a juke box that lumbered through one Nirvana song after another. There were only a handful of patrons inside.
Good. The less witnesses, the better.
“I’ll get quarters and rack up,” Eve said. “You get us something to drink.”
I headed to the bar, realizing Eve got the better end of the deal. She’d be out a dollar and I’d be out seven bucks.
But hopefully, if all went well, money wouldn’t be an issue for us soon.
“Light beer and a…”
“Root beer,” the bartender said, his smile revealing a gold tooth in the right side of his mouth.
“Um, yeah. Good memory.” I slid a ten across the counter. A tan hand appeared out of nowhere, grabbed the bill, and handed it back to me.
I looked up to see that the hand attached to Shane Doler.
“It’s on me,” he said, taking a barstool and motioning to the free one next to his.
I glanced in Eve’s direction. She was busy talking to a man in the corner, tossing her hair and batting her lashes.
“I didn’t know you came here,” I said, wondering what the odds were I would run into him here of all places, doing this.
“Only when my mind’s on a pretty girl,” he grinned, the dimples in his cheeks deepening.
I tried not to notice the way he looked: the way his brown curls had grown a fraction of an inch since last we’d talked, or how his eyes twinkled every time he spoke. And I tried to ignore the way he smelled, an intoxicating mix of Irish Spring, drugstore cologne, and beer. His presence always did strange things to me and I tried to ignore those feelings as I played with the buttons on my blouse.
He laughed, raised his mug, and took a drink.
“Ah,” he said, wiping his lips with his hand. “That’s what I needed.”
“I didn’t peg you as a drinker.”
“I wasn’t. Until tonight.” He inspected me over the top of his beer, his eyes half-closed and dreamy.
“So what’s new?” I asked, glancing at Eve again, who now had two men in her court. She was laughing at their wit, touching their shoulders. They were smitten, as most men were under her charms––both manufactured and magical.
Shane warmed his hands by rubbing them, then cupped them over mine. I sat up, arrow straight, on my stool. “Just counting down the hours until I get that kiss.” He leaned in, his lips mere inches from my own. He massaged my hands and my body grew suddenly warm. “How about now?” he asked, moving one hand to my knee.
I ached for him. I tried to reason it out, to find one good reason why I shouldn’t. But his energy, his smell, it was too much. Almost against my will, I leaned in closer.
My heart beat rapidly. His scent was intoxicating.
“C’mon,” he said, squeezing my knee. “Give Papa some sugar.”
“You’re drunk!” I removed his hand from my leg.
“Only a little.” He beckoned for the bartender to bring him another round. “A cowboy’s got a right to drink once in a while.”
“You’ve had enough, I think.” I tried to wrestle the beer away, but he won the battle as half of it sloshed across the counter.
“I could take you to court for that,” he joked as he mopped up the spilt beer with a stack of napkins.
“There are no courts in Dark Root. And,” I continued, dabbing at the beer stain on my shirt. “Just because you grew up in Montana and wear that silly hat, you are not a cowboy. A cowboy has a horse.”
Shane raised his arms in a stretch, kicking out his long legs. His T-shirt rose up, allowing me to glimpse his lightly muscled abs. “That, my dear, is a technicality. Someday I’m gonna have that horse and a pretty little cowgirl to ride off into the sunset with.” He lowered his arms and wrapped them around my waist. “Will you be that cowgirl? Pretty please?”
I pushed one of his arms down as the other found its way back around me. “You’re like a human octopus,” I said. “You need to go home and get some sleep. Let me call you a cab.”
“What? It’s still early.” He checked his wrist and chuckled when he noticed he wasn’t wearing a watch. “I like this place. I have music, fine company, and love.” He clamped both my hands in his and put them to his chest.
“Seriously, Shane. Do you have a designated driver? Did Paul come with you?”
“Maybe you can give me a ride. Will you give me a ride, Maggie?”
The double entendre made me blush, partly from embarrassment at seeing him like this, and partly for what he was implying. “Shane, come on.” I turned to the bartender. “Can you call him a taxi please? He needs to go home.”
“Home? Home to what? I live in an apartment above a fondue bar. I’m a cowboy with a fondue bar! That’s not home, Maggie. That’s not a place I can hang my hat.” He pulled my fingers to his lips. “I got a great idea. We can move in together. I can build us a little house. A ranch house!” His eyes lit up. “Wouldn’t that be swell?”
“Swell?” I took his grabby hands and planted them on the bar counter. “That’s it. You’re no longer allowed to watch The Andy Griffith Show.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Eve motioning for me to join her. One of the guys placed his hands on her bottom and her eyes told me that I’d better hurry.
“Mag-gie,” Shane slurred, gazing at me from beneath his lush, dark lashes. “We could get married. Start a family…wouldn’t that be n-ice?”
“The cab will be here in five minutes,” the bartender said.
“Shane, go home, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Is that your way of saying you don’t want to live with me?” He grabbed his hat on the counter and pushed it onto his head. “You won’t hold my hand. You won’t kiss me. And now you don’t even want to live with me. That’s just great.”
Eve practically hopped as she tried to wave me over.
I stood, torn between staying with Shane––who was clearly drunk off his ass––and Eve, who might be in trouble. The headlights of a cab appeared outside the window and I knew he’d be okay.
“Shane, I have to go.” I reached into his front jeans pocket and he smiled, pushing his hips against my hand. I could feel the beginning of his arousal. “Don’t get too excited. I’m just getting your keys.”
His expression turned sulky.
I found his keys and dropped them in my bag. “I’ll bring these by tomorrow. Your ride’s outside. Go home and get some sleep, okay?”
Reluctantly, I joined my sister and her two companions. They were older than her by at least twenty years. She smiled at me gratefully as I approached.
“Maggie, meet Bob and Larry. I told them we might be up for a quick game or two.” Larry, a balding man with a mustache that covered his entire upper lip, sidled over to me and slipped an arm around my
neck. I gracefully stepped out of his clutch, but not before Shane approached, scowling.
“It all makes sense now,” Shane said. “Why you don’t call me. Why you don’t want to live with me. Take good care of her, man,” he said to Larry as he passed.
Shane stomped away, trying unsuccessfully to slam the door on his way out.
I should have run after him, explained the situation to him, but it was pointless. In Shane’s liquored up head, he wouldn’t understand.
I hardly understood, and I was sober.
I watched through the window as Shane climbed into the cab. I could only hope that he had gotten so drunk he’d forget this whole evening come tomorrow when I dropped off his car.
“Gentlemen,” I said, staring resolutely at the pool table, my fingers tingling with electricity. “Let’s play.”
Twelve
SEX AND CANDY
Dark Root, Oregon
The Woods
Time: Unknown
He pushed his way through fog, thick as cotton candy, ignoring the dense undergrowth that grabbed for his feet. He smiled confidently as his eyes met mine.
“You came for me,” I said.
“You knew I would.”
“Yes.”
I thought for a moment, my mind muddled. “But how did you find me, Shane? Here, I mean.”
“I can always find you, Maggie. Even in your dreams.”
He closed the distance between us, his body so close to mine I could feel the heat rising off of him. Our breath and the fog became one. He rested one arm on the tree behind me. His body was damp and sticky, evidence of his restless sleep.
The trees closed in around us like a curtain. We were alone here, unchained by the burdens of reality. We could do…anything.
“Miss me?” I teased, resisting the urge to pull him closer. He had come for me. It was his quest to finish. “I mean, really Shane, I’ve had admirers before, but never ones who stalked me in my dreams.”
The Magick of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root) Page 12