The Curse of Dark Root: Part Two (Daughters of Dark Root Book 4) (17 page)

My son smiled and pressed his palm sweetly to my chin. I kissed it, wondering if this memory would be captured by the trees as well.

As we neared the structure to gather our things, Montana howled, his fingers digging into my arms. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I sensed we weren’t alone anymore.

I clutched Montana tightly. Who knew how many restless spirits wandered the land? The dead didn’t contain themselves to one generation or even one century. They crawled the landscape, overlapping each other like sediments of rock. They blinked in and out of our reality, though most people never sensed them.

But I did, and apparently, so did my son.

I stood there, holding him, until the feeling of unease vanished. “Poor Montana. Mommy’s sorry you got that
gift
. Just remember, ghosts are like Auntie Eve’s face without makeup. Not pleasant, but not something you should run from either.”

I laughed at my joke, wishing Ruth Anne or Eve herself were around to hear.

Pointing towards the ruins, I said, “Merry cleansed the building and no spirits will get in. We’ll hang a broom over the doorway, put up a bubble shield, sprinkle sea salt and hang garlic––”

More witchery.

“––Or maybe we’ll just put up a ‘No Trespassing’ sign and see how that works.”

Montana tensed in my arms and I froze just outside the doorway. The formerly dusky room suddenly brightened, as if someone had turned on a light, and a young Jillian appeared wearing a white cotton dress. Her hair was done up in flowers and she held a paintbrush in her hand, her lips pursed in concentration.

I retreated a step, my eyes never leaving the vision. Unlike the spirit presence we felt a minute earlier, this wasn’t real. It was a living memory, a hologram, kept secret and preserved in the stone. It was unnerving, none the less.

“Oh, Jillian,” I sighed, watching as she studied her blank canvas, her eyes bright and hopeful.

The image dispersed, taking the light with it. The woods surrounding us grew vocal, as nocturnal creatures began creeping from their burrows. This area might be quiet during the day, but there was a cacophony of chatter that resounded at twilight. I grabbed Montana’s bag and hurried to find the trail that led home.

As we made our way back, I felt eyes watching me. Sure enough, the largest raven I’d ever seen studied me from atop a branch. Its feathers shined like new oil. I quickened my pace but the raven followed, seemingly manifesting from one branch to another.

“Shoo!” I hissed, but the bird magically kept pace. Finally, I picked up a rock. “You don’t frighten me. I’ve been through too much to be scared by you.”

The raven regarded me, tilting its head, amused.

“You don’t scare me!” I repeated louder, chucking the rock in its direction.

It opened its beak, its caw like thunder.
We’ll see about that, Maggie Maggie.

THE WEEK AFTER my visit to the forest ticked by slowly, which was fine by me. The summers were short here and I avowed to enjoy the sun while it lasted.

Sister House now felt cleaner, as well.

There were hints of magick of course, but the heavy energy left over from Mother’s reign had dissipated, leaving only trace residue. And though I missed the nostalgia of living in The
Addams Family
house, my physical condition had improved. Both my fevers and nausea had lessened. I still had no idea why I was cursed, but I was fighting it off, and winning.

Merry and I were stiffly pleasant to one another after our encounter, though we spoke less often. Sometimes we’d smile as we passed each other in the kitchen or the hall, offering sly grins to let the other know we were open to an apology. But neither of us caved. After several days, I forgot why we were fighting until Merry rolled up in Michael’s van. It was now emblazoned with a Yin and Yang symbol. The sign read:
Mike’s Martial Arts Academy
. And beneath that,
Nut Up––Kick Some Butt.

“I’m only going to say this once,” I said to my son as we stared through the window. “Your daddy’s an idiot.”

My sister and Michael stood next to the parked van, facing one another. Michael leaned against the van door, nodding eagerly as Merry spoke. Her expressions and posture vacillated between excitement and worry. Michael lifted her chin, and held it there.

The lights in the room flickered in warning.

Ruth Anne looked up at me from the TV. “Hey!” she protested.

“Sorry,” I apologized, but the lights were beyond my control by this point, flashing on and off like a thunderstorm. Ruth Anne grunted and marched upstairs.

As I watched, Merry put her face in her hands and cried, her shoulders rolling as the tears flowed. Michael took her in his arms, embracing her. My heart sunk. I should be the one comforting my sister, not Michael. I turned away, unable to look further.

Ruth Anne returned several minutes later, her arms overflowing with books that she spread out across the dining room table.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll be reading in the dark?” I asked, nodding to the flickering candelabra overhead.

She pulled two flashlights from the pockets of her cargo jeans. “I’ve come prepared.”

She set her things down and joined me near the window. Her lips curled as Michael massaged Merry’s shoulders.

“Gag me,” she said, shaking her head.

“Amen,” I replied, chancing one last glance before closing the curtains.

“How’s Jack doing?” Ruth Anne asked, tickling my son’s chin.

“Jack?”

“As in ‘Jack’––the clown that pops out of the box.”

“Please don’t call him Jack, either.”

“Fine, but he’s gonna get tired of being known as ‘kid’ around here if you don’t pick a nickname. I’m running out.”

“It’s Montana, Ruth Anne.”

“Montana Ruth Anne. Now that’s a good name. Just drop the first part.”

She returned to her work, shuffling the books around the table and unpacking a shoebox filled with papers and pens.

“Can you watch
Montana
for about twenty minutes?” I asked, putting him in his swing near the table. I cranked it three times, and his legs and arms flailed in happy surprise.

“As long as he’s properly harnessed and his diaper is dry.”

“Check to both.”

She reached over and tickled his chin again, quickly retracting her hand when it was covered in drool. “Geez, Louise! If Monty ain’t spewing from one opening, he’s leaking from another.” She waved me away. “I got this.”

“Thanks. I really need a break. He’s been so needy lately.”

“That’s because you never put him down.”

I sighed and nodded, knowing she was right. I went to the stairs, pausing by the window, wondering if I should look again.

“I can have Michael neutered,” Ruth Anne called to me. “I know a man at the animal shelter. Just say the word.”

“Trust me, it’s tempting. But he’ll still be able to talk.”

“He can probably split his tongue too, like a Myna Bird.” My sister scratched her head, wriggling the pencil tucked behind her ear. “Wait. I think that’s to make them talk. Maybe there’s a reverse procedure?”

“Let’s just lock him in the basement and be done with it,” Eve declared, barging through the front door and removing her designer sunglasses. She shook out her long hair and tossed her sweater onto the back of the sofa. “We can say the sounds are from ghosts. We could even make a few bucks off it, if we market it right.”

“That would put us on the news,” I said.

Eve undressed, right in the living room, stripping down to her matching bra and panties. She then removed a sequined dress from her oversized bag. She held it up, along with a feathered headband. “I found these in Aunt Dora’s attic. Aren’t they to die for?”

As quickly as she stripped, she donned the costume, looking impossibly beautiful.

I gave Ruth Anne a thorough inspection. She was wearing her favorite t-shirt, the one with the picture of the hairy creature from Star Wars. Her jeans were clean, and so were her sneakers.

I glanced from one sister to the other. “What’s going on?”

They exchanged glances. “Just playing some games tonight,” Ruth Anne answered cheerfully. “You’re invited, of course.”

Games? We weren’t really a game-playing family. Still, it beat the boredom that came with our magick-free lives.

“Maybe,” I answered tentatively. “I’m going to take a long, hot bath first. Twenty minutes with Mr. Bubble and I should be right as rain.”

“Be off then,” Ruth Anne said, waving me away. “But if your kid’s got a new name by the time you get out, it’s on you.”

IT WAS THE first real bath I’d had in a long time and I reveled in the warm, sudsy water. It was also the first time I really looked at my post-mommy body in its entirety. My breasts were both engorged and loose, and my skin sagged around the bones. Even my toenails were a mess, as if someone had come at them with a wood chipper but hadn’t finished the job.

I sighed, sinking further into the tub. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about attracting a man in my current state––and all the troubles that came with it. Perhaps I’d stop combing my hair and shaving my legs to further the effect? Then on some distant date, a scientist might see me wandering the woods and think he’d stumbled upon the missing link.

The idea held some appeal. I could start my own matriarchal tribe. We’d run around topless and flabby and hairy, with just one token man around to keep our village alive.

Once again, my eyes drifted to my ring finger and my fantasy ended abruptly.

I didn’t want another man. Even an imaginary one.

I wanted Shane.

I thought about retrieving the ring from its burial plot, but it was a constant reminder of my pain. Maybe someday, but I wasn’t there yet. I might be in the “acceptance stage,” but that was only out of necessity to be a good mother.

I returned my thoughts to the present. I was bone tired. I closed my eyes. My muscles relaxed. And so did my mind.

I let down my guard.

Even if something happened to me, I knew that Michael and my sisters would protect Montana. With their own lives, if necessary.

FOURTEEN

Born to be Wild