The Witches of Dark Root: Daughters of Dark Root: Book One (The Daughters of Dark Root) (7 page)

“...And two more that said they were really interested. I think they were telling the truth. They even gave me phone numbers. That’s the best recruitment we’ve had in years.”

“I’m glad. That was a lucky coincidence with Leah and that crash, huh? Good timing.”

Michael stopped pacing, swiveling his head in my direction.

He said, “Mags, you know as well as I do that there are no coincidences.” He laughed but his laughter was different. Mad, maniacal. The laughter of a man who has just discovered he can bring dead things to life. “...I think we got a winner with Leah.”

The stomach pain returned. “Michael, that was a coincidence or a set up or something. There’s no way that
secretary
has any gifts at all.”
 

He looked at me like I had just committed heresy, but someone had to talk sense into him.

I plopped myself onto the bed and repeated, “Well, she doesn’t.”

“Maggie...” His voice softened as he joined me on the bed. He brushed through my hair with his fingers, starting at the scalp and working his way to the ends. It was wet and tangled but he skillfully plowed through the knots.

“I’m sorry,” I said. Warring with him wasn’t going to help anything. When I was done with my transformation, he would remember why he fell in love with me and see Leah for the pitiful weasel that she really was. I cracked an apologetic smile. “...I’m just upset with myself. I haven’t been performing lately. But I’m gonna try harder, I promise. Eat less junk food and meditate more and really focus. I’m so sorry, Michael. I promise to do better.”

Michael put his head on my shoulder. He smelled like soap and sweat. His scent always drove me crazy and I wanted to bury myself in him.

“Maggie, remember the early days when we were first starting out? You were on fire then. You walked into a room and things just...happened. Remember that?” I was about to comment that we were both different then, but he continued before I could speak. “...Remember that time when that cop was trying to arrest us for vagrancy? Suddenly his sirens go off and his radio goes crazy. He looked like he had just seen a ghost! You did that. We got two new people, James and Beth, when they witnessed that...”

I brushed Michael’s hair with my fingertips and smiled. “Well, it didn’t hurt that you told the cop the Lord wasn’t going to be happy if we got arrested for preaching the Good News.”

Michael took my free hand in his lap and squeezed it, then released it, finger by finger, unwrapping himself from me. He stood and went to our dresser, removing the flannel nightgown that I had owned since I left Oregon. It was the warmest, most comfortable nightgown in the universe, one of the few things he allowed me to keep from my old life.

Without saying a word he helped me get dressed, pulling the nightgown over my arms and head like my mother did when I was a little girl. Then he kissed me on the lips and I felt that familiar wave of love rush through me. I leaned back, pulling him with me, wanting him to take me, to remove any distance left between us.

He smiled, but nodded a gentle no.
 

“You, my dear,” he said. “...Need to go to sleep. I don’t think you’ve been getting enough rest lately.” He covered me up and tucked the sheet under my chin. “I love you, Mags,” he said, stroking my cheek. “I love you so much, in fact, that I won’t even wake you up for morning meditation tomorrow. Sleep in as long as you want, okay? Then we can spend some time together.”
 

I nodded, my chin disappearing under the sheet, and yawned. The bath and Michael’s hands had left me exhausted. I would talk to Michael tomorrow, when things were calmer. We would work everything out and life would be good again.

“What are you going to do now?” I asked, rolling onto my sleeping side and adjusting the pillow.

“Going to meet with our new recruits,” he said, standing to leave. “I will introduce you in the morning. Get some rest, sleepy girl.” He walked to the door and flipped the light when he heard my little yelp. “Oops, sorry Mags. You haven’t gone to bed before me in so long I forgot. Closet light okay?”
 

I nodded yes and he cracked the closet door, reaching for the pull rope inside. A flicker of light fell into the room. Just enough light to keep the dark at bay. I smiled and closed my eyes as the door shut behind him.

Four: Dreams

Sister House, Dark Root, Oregon

November, 1989

“Get out!” Miss Sasha’s voice was fierce, as her long finger pointed towards the door. The red-haired man shook his head, spittle forming at the corner of his lips.

“You’re a stubborn woman, Sasha. That will be your downfall.” He took a hat from the table and hugged it to his chest, pausing. Then he looked at the other grownups in the room. “I’ll be back.” He said the words quietly, but Maggie, though only three, could tell that it was more than a promise, it was a vow.
 

He placed his hat on his head and walked out the door.

“Anyone else going with him?” Miss Sasha eyeballed her friends.
 

They shook their heads in response.

“What’s happening?” Maggie whispered to her sisters, Ruth Anne and Merry. They were huddled together, spying on the scene from their secret spot under the staircase. Her two sisters shrugged, saying nothing.

“I'm going, too,” spoke a skinny woman with long brown hair and glasses. “We don’t have to stay here,” she said, addressing the others. “I know a spot where we can ride it out, be safe. Dark Root isn’t the only stronghold in this part of the world.”

Maggie heard commotion on the far side of the room. People talking, chairs scuffling, voices raised. She tried to step out for a better look but Ruth Anne pulled her in.
 

“No, Maggie, patience.”
 

In the dark, Maggie could feel her sister Merry shiver beside her.

“Then it’s settled.” Miss Sasha’s voice was easily recognizable. “You go, too. We don’t need that here. But...” she said, her voice taking on a threatening tone. “...Mark my words. Your self-preservation will be your undoing.”

“We’ll see,” said the brown-haired woman, gathering her coat and heading towards the door. “You squander your gifts, Sasha.”

“Git outta here, den!” Aunt Dora said, shooing the woman towards the door.

A few others followed her out, and the house grew suddenly quiet.

Woodhaven Compound, Humboldt County, California

September, 2013

It was a dream. I’ve always dreamed in third person. Michael says it’s my way of protecting myself
even though I’m safe and sound here at Woodhaven
. In the past, my dreams had all been run-of-the-mill, images of daily life mixed with the incredible––like walking a dog that suddenly turns into a banana––but nothing real, nothing noteworthy.

Since Merry called however, I’ve been treated to a nightly hodgepodge of clips from my childhood, more memory than dream, with every detail perfect and magnified for my viewing pleasure. But this was the first full-length clip I’d gotten, and I was surprised by how far back it went. I couldn’t remember myself at the age of three, but my subconscious did, and it offered me up to me for further study.

Eyes still closed, I groaned, pulling the covers over my head, trying to shake the unease of being back in Dark Root. In my dreams, I was a powerless kid again, small, squashed and suffocated. Too young to understand, ask questions, or rebel. The world unfurled around me and I had no choice but to be part of that story. My mother’s story.

I willed my mind to replace the dream with images of things I loved: Oreos, Jack-O-Lanterns, Michael. The last image didn’t help. Leah quickly joined him in my neurotic brain, smiling at me while she stroked his arm. My blood pressure rose and I changed tactics, trying an exercise Uncle Joe taught me when I was six, Find Maggie’s Happy Place.

I did a quick mental scan and settled on the garden of my childhood home, a great floral wilderness surrounded by weeds. I smelled the earth, dampened by rain, felt the point of a thousand blades of grass as they stabbed at my bare legs, and saw the tree that Aunt Dora had planted in a far corner, hardly more than a seedling now, but that would one day give us the apples we candied in the fall.

I willed myself into the picture, bringing my sisters with me: Ruth Anne, Merry, Eve.

We ran through the garden playing tag, Eve’s eyes bright as she ran towards me, Merry pulling away just as I caught a tuft of her fine, white hair, Ruth Anne watching from the bench, an open book on her lap. We laughed as the rain came down on us, lifting our chins to the sky and taking in large gulps of water.
 

“Ye’ll catch yer death o’ cold!” Aunt Dora hollered from the doorway and we screamed with glee in response. A clap of thunder in the distance sent us scurrying home, through the iron gates and onto the sanctuary of the porch.

I smiled and the image dissolved into confetti.

It was ironic, I thought, that the one place I ran to for comfort was the one place I needed to escape from. Home.

I rolled onto my side, wanting to wake Michael and tell him about the dream, but there was a large gap on the mattress where his body should have been. He had not come to bed yet. I pulled the sheet down and opened my eyes. And that’s when I noticed it.

The light in the closet had gone out.

I was completely and utterly in the dark.

I stared into the black void of the closet, trying to justify the reason. Probably just a burned out bulb, I thought.

But what if it wasn’t?

I threw the sheet from my body and felt my way towards the closet, using my hands as a guide. My fingers found the edge of the half-opened door. I pulled it open and stepped inside, measuring the space with my feet. I reached for the pull cord, took a deep breath, and tugged at it. The room flooded with light.

I stood frozen, trying to figure out what had happened. Maybe Michael had turned it off while I was sleeping. But why? To save a few pennies on electricity? That didn’t make sense. He knew about my phobia and though he liked to tease me, he wasn’t cruel.
 

I stepped back into my bedroom and looked around.

Everything was in its place. There were no new mud tracks on the floor. If Michael had come in, he left no evidence.

I was about to climb back into bed, chalking it up as a strange ‘coincidence’ that I would ask Michael about later, when one of the closet shelves crashed to the floor.

In an instant I was racing to my bedroom door. I twisted the knob and fell into the hall, my heart beating so loudly, I could hear it in my ears. The corridor was dark but flickering lights beneath doorways assured me that others were still awake. I ran for the stairs that would take me down to the common room where Michael would be meeting with the new members.
 

“You okay?” Jason asked as I bolted past him in the hallway. He was in a white t-shirt and gym shorts, carrying a glass back to his bedroom.

I shook my head in some sort of yes/no combination and kept going.

The common room was dark and quiet. I flipped the light switch on to see if Michael had fallen asleep on one of the couches, but he was not there. I shot a glance at the kitchen behind me but the lights were off there as well. I felt an urgency to find Michael. I needed him to comfort me and tell me that it was all in my imagination and that everything was okay.