The Curse of Dark Root: Part Two (Daughters of Dark Root Book 4) (15 page)

I bundled Montana in the baby sling, carrying him around the house with me as he screamed and squealed with both joy and angst at his confinement.

“Shhh.” We tiptoed past a napping Ruth Anne. She was somehow sitting upright on the couch, yet asleep. Her head warbled off to the side and a string of drool dangled from her lower lip. Montana saw her and screeched with excitement.

Auntie Ruth Anne had become a favorite––making funny faces and fart noises and sharing her pudding when she thought I wasn’t looking. He screeched again, startling Ruth Anne into swatting at the air. She knocked the glasses from her face in the process.

My sister rubbed her eyes and smiled when she noticed Montana peddling his feet, trying to get to her.

“I haven’t decided,” I said out loud.

Ruth Anne wiped her glasses on a Wings and Wrenches napkin and replaced them on her pert nose. Her brown eyes narrowed. “Decided what, Mags?”

“Which Peanuts character you remind me of the most. You act more like Peppermint Patty but you look like Marcy.”

“You’re a funny woman. If this ‘mom thing’ doesn’t work out for you, maybe you’ll pursue standup.”

“Personally, Montana thinks you’re more of a Thelma from Scooby Doo type, but I don’t know.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Thelma rocked those turtlenecks! And do you think they’d ever solve any of the mysteries without her? I mean, Fred and Daphne were big helps, huh? And Scooby and Shaggy? C’mon! What do you think they did in the Mystery Van to have the munchies like that?”

She looked around, making sure we were alone. “Speaking of which...”

“Uh-oh.” I knew where this was going. “We’re not opening a mushroom business, Ruth Anne.”

“Why not? I can pick them myself. It would be all profit.”

“Geez, Ruth Anne. Don’t you have enough going on with the writing and the ghost hunts?”

“That’s why we should open it. I need a distraction. And the revenue... Just think!” She held up her hands, creating a frame. “This can be the new cog in Dark Root’s economy wheel. I sell Ruth Anne’s Magick Mushrooms to the tourists. They eat them and want to do fun, crazy things, like play with tarot cards and learn to contact their dead aunts. So they wander over to Sasha’s store, where Eve sells them the necessary supplies.”

I laughed. “I like the name of the product anyway, and it’s not like we’d be using real magic. But you’ll never get Merry to agree.”

“Agree to what?” Merry came through the front door with a basket of purple flowers. Another was tucked behind her ear.

“Oh, just another one of Ruth Anne’s business ideas,” I groaned.

“Do what I do,” Merry said. “Just nod and smile. She’s harmless and doesn’t follow through.”

“Hey!” Ruth Anne protested. “I’m right here.”

Merry turned her attention to me as she went about filling up the new vases scattered about the house. “Where are you off to, Sunshine?” she asked as I hedged towards the door.

“Just a nature walk with my son.” I smiled, trying to hide the lie. Knowing my sister’s empathic ability to read intentions, I wasn’t sure if she bought it.

“It’s a great day for it,” she said, opening the drapes and flooding the room with light.

“I better get started,” I said with a nod. “You know this Dark Root weather. So unpredictable.”

“Yes.” Merry studied me, her gaze flickering between me and my son. “The
weather
can be very unpredictable around here.” With that, she went upstairs.

Ruth Anne joined me at the door. “Just because we’ve ‘cleaned’ this house, doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods. Got it?” Her face was pale and serious, and her eyes large and concerned.

“Got it,” I agreed. “I promise to be careful. I’m just going for a walk.”

“Yeah,” she said, inhaling deeply so that her chest expanded, adding temporary curves to her tomboy figure. “But these are Dark Root woods––restless and wild, just like you. Trouble attracts trouble.”

“Not this time,” I said confidently. “I’ve turned over a new leaf. I’m trouble free.” I smiled reassuringly.

But my sisters knew me better than I know myself.

I
WAS
GOING for a walk. That was the truth. I just hadn’t told my sisters that I had a particular destination in mind––the stone building where I viewed my father track a young Jillian in the snow globe memory.

While I did want to be free of magick, I couldn’t shake my curiosity. And perhaps I could solve these riddles without more globes, if I returned to the scene in my physical body.

I followed Armand’s path, trying to recreate the route I’d seen in the dreamscape. It was difficult, especially since he took an alternate route to throw off Mother. The land had changed somewhat over the years, and the undergrowth had swallowed the trail. I looked for landmarks, but seeing nothing familiar, decided to follow my instincts more than any physical path.

There were several times I heard things––rustling, tromping, grunts and growls––but as long as none of these
things
were supernatural, I wasn’t turning back. And Montana seemed excited to be going on this grand adventure.

I felt called to visit this dwelling, though I wasn’t sure why. “It’s not magick,” I defended myself to my son as we tramped through the vast greenery. “It’s a memorial.”

A memorial to my warlock father?

Deep in thought, I soon found myself lost. Nothing but trees and leaves as far as I could see. Everything looked the same. Montana gazed up at me with his gold-green eyes. He had faith in me. I looked around, determined to dig my way out or dig myself further in.

“
Stop searching with your eyes and search it in your mind.
”

It was Shane’s voice, coming to me through a memory, though I couldn’t remember ever having that conversation with him.

I vaguely saw an image of the old stone structure in my mind, but it was drowned out up by the realization that I would never hear Shane’s voice again. I touched my ring finger. The hurt was so bad I stopped walking. Montana continued to study me. I smiled to comfort him. “We’re going the right way,” I said, with a lilt in my voice I didn’t feel. “Mommy has you.”

Sit with the pain, I told myself as I marched on. The image of the ruins was softly imprinted on my brain, propelling me forward. I
had
loved. Deeply. And that was more than most people got.

I was lucky. Wasn’t I?

I walked in solitude and Montana drifted to sleep. I stepped over a tree trunk, heading down a path of dangling limbs. I no longer tried to remember. I just let go.

The sun disappeared for a stint, and in the moment that it reemerged, I saw it ahead of me––the small stone building now covered in moss and vines. Above it draped a canopy of knotted tree branches, twisting like a steeple, a cathedral built by nature herself. The structure had lost more stones. Time had taken its toll.

Still, the building radiated peace.

Was it Jillian’s energy that permeated the dwelling, even after all this time? Had she left the spirit of her youth here? I could almost smell her soap and shampoo in the air. As I approached, I saw the nearly invisible outline of a bubble encasing the building, though it was now thin and fragile. Jillian hadn’t only visited here––she had loved this secret place.

As in the snow globe, there was a doorway without a door, and windows without any glass. The building felt ancient, tribal, primitive. But there were no markers to signify who might have built it.

My body buzzed, as if I’d just drank several shots of Ruth Anne’s espresso.

The stones.
There was something about these stones.

I inspected them, noting granules of sparkles embedded throughout. Crystal? Quartz? Whatever it was, they made me light-headed.

Montana’s head flopped against my chest and I cradled his neck with my hand. I had wanted to be rid of magick but magick was thick here, preserved in these stones. So what was I doing out here?

“Maggie...”

I spun quickly, my free hand pushing out protectively. It took me a second to realize it was only Merry. “How did you know I was here?” I asked.

“Sister’s intuition.” Her pretty face was serious, though her voice was light. “Ruth Anne said you were acting funny so I followed.”

“We don’t get a lot of privacy around here, do we?”

“Welcome to Dark Root.”

TWELVE

Let the Sunshine In

MERRY AND I entered the ruins shoulder to shoulder. Though peaceful from the outside, the energy inside was claustrophobic. Merry reached out, extending her calm presence, staving off the oppressiveness like a lantern pushing against the dark. When the room cleared enough to breath comfortably, we grinned like two kids in a treehouse.

“Cozy,” Merry said, looking around. It was a simple room, stone walls and a stone floor, capped by a timber roof. Hazy golden light streamed through the window openings, touching the ends of Merry’s golden hair. She looked like summer incarnate.

My sister sat on the ground, clearing away the dry leaves. “Hand him to me,” she said, reaching up to take my son. He chortled as I passed him off, then quickly fell to sleep.

“He’s so trusting,” I said wistfully, sitting across from them. “Do you think we were like that when we were young?”

Merry shrugged, not wanting to say anything negative, but I knew the answer. We’d been raised as part of a tight community, which meant everyone in Dark Root was either our aunt or uncle. On the positive side, I always felt safe in Dark Root. Conversely, we never bonded with Mother the way I had with Montana, or Merry had with June Bug.

“We trusted everyone,” I answered for her.

“And no one,” she said limply. She gazed lovingly at Montana, fingering his tuft of auburn hair. “Mama was a busy woman. She didn’t have time for personal conversations and picnics.”

“Aunt Dora did.”

“Yes, she did.” Guilt bubbled in my stomach. I hadn’t spoken to Aunt Dora since I discovered she made the deal with Larinda, especially after learning we weren’t actually blood relatives.

“It’s all trivial,” Merry said. “Family is family, however it’s formed. And when someone goes out of their way to be there for you and spend time with you, again and again, that person is family.” She widened her eyes and gave me her big sister stare.

“You’re right.” I answered obediently.

“Maybe we didn’t need that kind of relationship with Mama,” she continued. “We had each other, and I wouldn’t trade that for the world. Anyways, I think Mama did her best.”