The Curse of Dark Root: Part Two (Daughters of Dark Root Book 4) (20 page)

“We won’t let that happen. He’ll be sorry he was ever born if he doesn’t send my niece back soon. That, I promise.”

Merry snorted, then laughed, her eyes brimming with tears. “I fear for Frank if he crosses you, little sister. Why do you think I was always nice to you?”

“You mean it wasn’t my witty banter and sparkling personality?”

“Oh, that too, for sure.” She wiped her eyes, then lifted Montana from his seat. He pouted momentarily, until he saw her shining face. “We only live a couple miles apart, little guy,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Auntie Merry will see you every day, come rain or sleet or... well, this is Dark Root, so more rain.”

He chirped like a little bird at the news. She kissed him again and handed him to me.

“Thank you,” I said, putting him into my kangaroo sling. “For taking care of us. I can’t repay you. Ever.”

“You’re moving across town, not to the moon. Cut it out.”

I trembled, remembering the moment Merry delivered my son into the world, in the back of her sedan. I was given one life that day, but had lost another. It was only because of my sister’s constant presence that I was able to stay strong enough to care for my son after Shane’s death. Had she not been a reminder of all the good still left in the world, I might’ve surrendered to the darkness that threatened to take me.

I squeezed her shoulder and nodded. “I’m sorry I was a jerk.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more understanding.”

“I better run,” I said with a tight smile. “Or I’ll never leave.”

Merry’s face paled. She pressed her lips together and sighed. “Maggie, I hadn’t wanted to mention this, but Aunt Dora hasn’t been the same these last few months.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she and Jillian...” she shrugged. “I should let them tell you.”

I locked eyes with her. “She isn’t sick, is she? Or dying?”

“No. No! Nothing like that.” Her shoulders rose then dropped. “She’s just out of sorts lately. Jillian, too. I wanted to give you a heads up.”

“Out of sorts? Because of me?”

She didn’t need to answer. I’d always been close to my aunt and adored Jillian, but I’d kept my distance since the birth. They hadn’t even seen Montana, except for a couple of visitations via Michael.

“I’m an idiot,” I said. “I was so caught up in my own crap, I didn’t think of anyone else’s. How do you all put up with me?”

“We make really strong tea.” Merry laughed and her aura brightened.

I pulled on my alpaca sweater, which now bagged down over my hips. It was too warm to wear, but I was still between sizes, and it hid my midriff perfectly.

“You’ll drop off my stuff?” I asked. “I don’t want to leave it too long. Who knows what Eve will send to the thrift store if given a chance.”

“I’ll bring it. You won’t go naked on my watch.”

“I was practically a nudist at Woodhaven. That seems so long ago, too.”

Merry looked at her feet, blushing. “I had my nudist moments as well, back in the day.”

I raised a curious eyebrow but she didn’t elaborate. I’d save the question for a day in the distant future, when we were old and wrinkled, reminiscing about life and drinking strong brew.

“Aunt Dora invited us for dinner,” Merry said, changing topics. “I’ll bring your boxes then. You know, Michael’s still living in the attic. Are you okay with that?”

One side of my mouth slid into a “whatever” look. “I see him more now than I did when we lived together. But he did say he had a new place lined up.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that to me, too.”

I could tell by the way her energy bristled that she knew more. I would’ve pressed but I was already late. Aunt Dora expected me for high tea. I’d ask Michael about his new place later.

“Okay, I’m off,” I said, giving her a quick hug. “See you on the flip side.”

She clamped her feet together and her fingers rose up to her forehead in a salute. I saluted her back.

I wasn’t sure what I was stepping into. All I knew was that it was time to make amends with everyone. I needed the help of Jillian and Aunt Dora, the wise women of the family. Only they would know how to deal with a budding infant warlock.

Montana and I began our two mile walk towards Harvest Home along the forest path that connected the properties. Along the way a butterfly appeared, landing softly on Montana’s shoulder. It rode there, unmoving, the rest of the way home.

MERRY WARNED ME that Aunt Dora was
out of sorts,
but nothing could’ve prepared me for what awaited me at Harvest Home.

As the path drew clear of the forest, I was struck dead in my tracks. The earth around the Victorian home had cracked and parched, despite the recent rains, withering the grass to nothingness. There were no flowers in the beds, and the garden was a barren graveyard.

Strangest of all, the trees surrounding the perimeter of the property were bare, as if still stuck in the maw of winter. Dried leaves and rotted fruit dotted the ground. Even the sounds of the forest were stilled, except for an occasional caw from scavenging birds.

The only sign of life on the property came from the two parked cars––Michael’s van and Jillian’s Lexus.

As I beheld the once-pristine Victorian home, all seemed supernaturally quiet. Its shutters were drawn like half-closed eyelids. From a distance, it looked sad, tired, and haunted.

Approaching the house, I was relieved to find the exterior still clean and maintained. Aunt Dora might be
out of sorts,
but she was no slouch when it came to housekeeping. Apart from the bleak vegetation, it was the energy of the house that troubled me most. It exuded an air of desperation, masked by paint.

Curiously, strange objects dangled from clotheslines draped across each and every window. Small glass balls, like Christmas tree ornaments, were strung from the curtain rods. Most were blue, with peacocks’ eyes painted upon them. Here and there, hand mirrors hung from their handles, face out, reflecting back the sun. And in between the bulbs and mirrors, shoes dangled from their laces––baby shoes, adult shoes, slippers, sandals.

“What the...” I blinked several times.

Had Aunt Dora truly lost her marbles?

I crept up the porch stairs, listening. There was a distant rumbling within, though I couldn’t tell if it was Aunt Dora herself or her old electric mixer.

“Maggie! You made it.” Michael called to me as he came around the side of the house. Montana squealed. “Son!” he proclaimed, dashing up the stairs and prying him from my arms.

“The DNA test hasn’t come back yet,” I said. “Don’t get too attached.”

Michael grinned. “You’re a heartless woman, Maggie Mae. That’s why I love you.” He took me by the arm and led me around to the back door. “They’re inside, nervous as I’ve ever seen them. I think Dora even burned the tea.”

In all my years, Aunt Dora had
never
burned the tea.

I shook my head. “You’d think I was the queen,” I said, studying another set of glass balls and shoes swaying from the kitchen window.

“Well, my dear, here you are a queen.” He waved a hand in a regal sweeping motion, extending his fingers towards the door. “Your court awaits. I’ll show Montana his new room. And Mags... go easy on them.”

Michael went in first, waving at the two women sitting around the kitchen table, then disappeared through the archway into the living room. I stayed just outside the doorway, collecting my thoughts. I still felt betrayed, but they were family after all. And deep down, I knew their intentions were noble.

I exhaled and went in.

 
A string of chicken bones hung on a rope across the threshold. They made a clicking sound as I swatted them aside and closed the screen door behind me. Before I could ask about the bones, four arms enfolded me.

“We’ve missed you so much Magdalene.” Jillian tearfully tightened her embrace.

“My Maggie Girl!” Aunt Dora exclaimed. She wiped her nose on the sleeve of my sweater. “Ya’ve come home!”

I was home.

And suddenly all my anger melted away.

THE AFTERNOON UNFOLDED in a tea party of hugs and tears. Aunt Dora, now several stress-pounds thinner, poured brew and offered an assortment of scones and crumpets. She fussed over me, while refusing to eat any herself.

Jillian sat beside me, nibbling at the corners of her pastry, joking gaily and dabbing her eyes with the corner of her linen napkin. Her hair had grayed near the temples and the lines around her mouth had deepened, as if her lips had been kept in a permanent pucker. There were shadows beneath her eyes, dark crescent moons hanging in a porcelain sky.

We cried, and laughed, and cried again, clinking cups and apologizing in turn, all while giggling at the madness of it all. We were family––our bonds had been forged through good times and hardships, and we vowed that nothing would come between us again.

“Let’s make it official,” Aunt Dora insisted.

We joined hands and said our oaths:

“By this circle, we shall be, together for eternity.”

“Blessed be!” Aunt Dora said, raising her cup.

“Blessed be!” I seconded.

“Blessed be!” Jillian echoed, though her gaze fell to the crystal bracelet on my wrist. Worry shadowed her face as she took in the largest of the cracks, which was lengthening ever so slightly each day.

I pulled my hand into my lap, covering the heirloom with the sleeve of my alpaca sweater.

Fortunately, Michael appeared, holding a freshly-bathed Montana swathed in a towel.

“Oh!” Aunt Dora’s hands covered her mouth as she teetered in her seat. Jillian extended an arm out to steady her. “I haven’t hugged him yet,” my aunt continued. “May I?”

I smiled, nodding. “Hug away.”

Michael kneeled down and Aunt Dora gave Montana a gentle squeeze.

Jillian rose to her feet and I noticed that her normally tailored clothes fit noticeably looser. “I’ve seen this little guy before, but I’ve never held him.”

“Go ahead. I consider you family too, Jillian.”

She smiled tightly though brightened eyes. Michael passed her our son, and the two regarded one another with strange wonder.

“He looks so much like...”

“My father. I know. It’s unbelievable.”

Aunt Dora used her cane to stand. “Yer father was a handsome man, I’ll give him that. But he was also a warlock, powerful an’ dangerous! We’ll get rid o’ every trace o’ him in that baby, ya’ll see.” She waved her cane like she were casting a spell.