The Curse of Dark Root: Part Two (Daughters of Dark Root Book 4) (32 page)

But Sasha wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily. “There’s a dark presence in the diner now, one that wasn’t there until recently. I know Jillian and Joe aren’t responsible. I can only assume it was you.”

He shrugged. “First off, this town attracts all kinds of loonies, thanks to you advertising it as ‘haunted.’ One of our creepy tourists may have brought it along with them.”

“Armand?” Sasha pressed.

“No. I haven’t summoned any demons so you two can cool your jets. And even if I did try, I wouldn’t do it in Delilah’s. For cripes’ sake, that’s where I eat.”

Sasha’s face softened slightly. “So our new visitor isn’t your doing?”

“Hell, woman, I don’t know. Jillian’s always talking about ‘hitchhikers.’ Maybe it’s one of those.”

Jillian nodded, hesitantly. “It might be. It’s a dark entity, but I can’t get a read on it. It could have very easily followed him in.”

Sasha puckered her lips, staring him down, waiting for him to break. But he didn’t. She breathed deeply, trying to control her rage. She wanted to catch him, to prove once and for all that warlocks were bad and witches were good. Sasha and her double standards.

“Are we done here?” he asked, flashing his most charming smile.

“Not yet.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, earnestly.

“How?”

“I’ll find a spell. I’m sure there’s one in that big book of yours.”

“That is fine. But Armand, from now on the book must be read only in my shop. No more removing it from the store.”

“Why the hell not?”

Sasha eyed him carefully. “It’s delicate and the last of its kind. I need to keep it safe.”

“So, I have to sit in ‘Old Lady-ville’ with tea and doilies, whenever I want to study!? Fucking great.”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Maybe I will take it,” he said, stepping towards her. His face was close enough that he could smell the coffee on her breath. “Maybe I’ll take it far away, in fact.”

He pushed past her, bumping her shoulder as he made for the door, avoiding Jillian’s eyes.

“You’d be advised not to take my spell book.” Sasha spoke calmly, though the warning in her voice was crystal clear.

“I’m leaving,” he said. “Once I get rid of that thing in Joe’s, I’m out of this town. And Sasha––if I wanted anything from you, there’s nothing you could do to stop me from taking it. Nothing.”

Larinda looked at him with hopeful eyes.

Fuck, he might as well take her along, too.

Maybe they’d start a new life together, and forget all about Sasha and her spell book and her precious Dark Root.

And maybe he’d forget about Jillian, too.

TWENTY-THREE

Let it Be

MY MIND WAS restless as I sat in the ruins of Jillian’s old stone studio. Montana snored in his carrier while I sat on the floor, wiggling my feet in a patch of sun while listening to the sounds of nature around me. My thoughts ricocheted between the near-disaster of almost sleeping with Michael and the horror of my father going dark, bordering on evil.

In return for power, he promised The Dark One his first male heir.

Fortunately, he only had daughters as far as I knew. Unless there was another child I didn’t know about. A brother?

The thought left me sick. There were still more
 
globes. Would they reveal his heinous deed? Or was it something else?

Of course... grandchildren were also considered heirs.

I quickly looked down at my son, placing my hand over him protectively, like a driver holding out his arm over the passenger seat when she slams on the breaks. The aura around my hand shone brick red. Nothing was getting to my son. That, I could guarantee. Even if I had to pull from every storm cloud for miles.

But the truth was, I still had no idea what was to come, both in the remaining globe or in life. Deep down, I knew there was only so much I could control, a feeling that left me cold and unsettled. I shivered, even though the day was warm, fighting through the anger and trying to quell my fears.

Most unsettling of all was the strange sympathy I felt for my father. He and I were both victims of heartache, in our own ways. Would his path have changed had he been allowed to love Jillian? Or was he truly bad at the core, and she his one respite from the darkness that slowly devoured his soul? Like my father’s hair and death touch, I wondered if I inherited his propensity towards darkness, as well?

As quickly as I cleared these thoughts from my head, they kept sneaking back in, jabbing at the periphery of my brain, knocking relentlessly until I opened the door. Once I did, images of the people in my life swept in––Armand, smiling, holding his set of scales. Michael followed, his face stricken when I called Shane’s name.

“Stop!” I said with authority. All visions suddenly ceased.

I couldn’t let these thoughts control me. I had to let them go.

I shivered though I wasn’t cold. I tried to cry. There were no tears but the floor quivered perceptively, as if crying on my behalf. I sat with the gentle waves, breathing in and out in harmony, until I felt spent and strangely euphoric. Crying, even without tears, cleansed the soul.

“Butterflies,” I said softly, a gentle reminder of my mission. I’d come to the stones to get rid of these inner demons, not relive them. I’d been up half the night doing just that. But I needed to focus––I was still sick and the globes were yet unfinished. I needed to heal. Instinctively, I knew that being here was part of that process.

I pressed the palms of my hands together in the space before my heart, my fingers pointed upwards. “Butterflies,” I said again, with more determination. I glanced around. The floors stopped trembling, but there was nothing more.

I could command the globes to float, the spirits to leave, and the heavens to open up with rain, but I couldn’t command the butterflies. Everything in the universe wasn’t under my control, nor mine to command. And maybe that was the answer.

“Butterflies,” I pled, humbly this time. I didn’t pull from anything. I just asked, and let it be.

A butterfly appeared in the doorway, sunlight filtering through its translucent white wings. It hovered there, waiting. I extended my shaking hand.

Calm, Maggie, calm
.

I breathed deeper, slower, clearing the remaining cobwebs from my mind. My chest rose and fell with the butterflies’ fluttering wings and the world outside this sanctuary fell away. The sunbeam on the floor expanded. Soon Montana and I were cocooned in a room of light.

There was beauty in this moment, a quiet realization that the world was a wonderful place, despite its hardships and losses. Even the darkest deeds had a chance to be undone. For the first time in many months, my heart didn’t ache. My brain didn’t overthink. My body didn’t swelter. I was not afraid. I had everything I needed to keep us safe.

Montana awoke. He smiled as he caught sight of the butterfly, stretching his small arm towards it. Moments later, the doorway was bursting with the flitting wings of hundreds of butterflies, in every color of the rainbow and beyond. They filled the entrance like a display of fireworks filling the empty sky.

I gasped while Montana giggled wildly beside me.

Did he summon them, or did I? Or had we called them together?

The original white butterfly fluttered in alone, touching down onto the tip of Montana’s extended finger. The others joined, encircling us––a swirl of color and dazzling light. We giggled, unable to stop ourselves, swept up in the raw exhilaration of the butterfly dance. Collectively, they swirled to the right and then the left, rising and falling in unison, as if directed by an unseen conductor. The display was the most wondrous magick I had ever witnessed. Overcome by emotion, I took my son’s small hand in mine. If there were miracles, we were bearing witness to one right now.

Eventually, they began their casual descents, settling over us like a dusting of powdered sugar. I stood up very carefully, cloaked in butterflies as Montana shrilled with delight.

Smiling, I stepped lightly towards the doorway, basking in the sun, marveling at the world around me. The Council spoke of the coming Dark, but as long as there were butterflies there was hope. These small joyous moments would hold it back. They had to.

“Go now,” I whispered, pointing towards the tree line.

One by one they flew away, painting the sky as they arced like a rainbow, disappearing into the lush woods.

The single white butterfly lingered behind, still perched upon the tip of my son’s finger.

“Thank you,” I said. It fluttered once, as if nodding, then it too flew away.

With newfound optimism in my heart, I scooped Montana up and spun him around. We laughed as we dizzied ourselves. The world was dark and uncertain at times, but there was always hope. And though I wasn’t sure what my own future held, or the world’s for that matter, I knew I had my family, my friends, and now the butterflies to see me through.

I was happy and I understood that wherever Shane was, he was happy for me. We don’t give up because we lose someone. We keep going for them.

As we reveled in the moment, my ears suddenly perked. There was a nearby swishing sound, like rustling leaves.

Or feathers.

I stood taller, refusing to be afraid as I awaited another visit from Larinda. She didn’t appear, but a large raven did. It boldly landed on a crumbling window sill, watching me with tar-black eyes.

“Shoo,” I said, my fingers twitching.

The bird hopped down from its ledge and ambled towards us, unafraid and brazen.

“Go!” I commanded, kicking at the bird. The creature nimbly hopped out of the way, cocking its head contemptuously. Unnerved by its boldness, I stomped my foot. “Leave!” The room shook violently at my command.

The bird’s eyes shifted to a vibrant purple. This was no ordinary raven. It was a magickal creature––a familiar, a minion, or a witch in guise. It stretched its wings wide, doubling in size within the span of a breath. It continued to grow and I lifted my hands, preparing to send the thing back to whatever foul realm it belonged.

I quickly pulled a piece of chalk from my shorts pocket and drew a protective circle around me and my son. I then tapped my crystal bracelet. “You can’t hurt me and you know it. Now leave before I do something you’ll regret.”

With a defiant glare, the creature deliberately placed a talon on the chalk line.

As it breached my spell, I realized this was something more than a simple construct.

It pumped its wings and cawed, then launched its body forward, claws extended, aiming for my shoulder.

I covered Montana with one arm as I absorbed the first shredding rips. It tore through my shirtsleeve, leaving an etching of blood along my upper arm. I batted the creature away, sending it barreling into the opposite wall. It hit hard, dropping to the ground.

The raven’s violet eyes flashed momentarily red as it renewed its attack.

A blaze of orange appeared in the doorway, followed by a prism of color. The orange blur leapt, snatching down the raven in midair with its teeth and claws. The two creatures wrestled on the ground, tearing and biting, a blitz of teeth and feathers and orange fur. At last, the blackbird was subdued.