The Witches of Dark Root: Daughters of Dark Root: Book One (The Daughters of Dark Root) (27 page)

June Bug inspected the picture. “Aunt Maggie, how come you have red hair and Mommy’s is yellow?”

“I don’t know,” I said, putting the picture in one stack and removing another. “I guess that’s just the way God made us.”

“What’s God?”

“You don’t know who God is?”

“No.”

“Well...” I began tentatively.

If Merry hadn’t given her a spiritual upbringing, I wasn’t sure it was my place. Especially when my own religious views were in question. But she had asked.

“Some people believe that there is someone called God who made the entire world and all the people in it,” I said finally.

“And the dogs and cats and bugs?”

“Yes. All of it.”

“Is God a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t know that, either. God’s invisible. Some people think he is a boy and some people think He––I mean, She––is a girl.”

“Do you think God’s a boy or a girl?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. A boy, I guess.”

“Do you believe in God?”

I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t sure what I believed anymore.

Twenty years with Mother, and seven with Michael, had given me the foundation to believe in
something
, but I wasn’t sure what that something was. Their religions at times seemed twisted and convoluted and applicable only to certain people. But I had seen and experienced too much to think there was
nothing
out there. I answered as honestly as I could.

“Well, I talk to God sometimes, so I guess I do believe.”

“Is God nice?”

“I think so. I hear God used to have a temper but got nicer once He––or She––had a kid.”

I shrugged, never quite understanding that. Back in the days when we were building Woodhaven, we had discussed the nature of God at length, but had never come to a consensus. I thought about it a bit more before continuing.

“...When most people talk to God, they are usually asking for something, so I guess that means we think God is nice.”

“That means God is a girl.” June Bug grinned like she had won a game. “When I want something I always ask Mommy––not Daddy––because girls are the nicest.”

“Excellent logic,” I agreed.

Something occurred to me.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” I removed a stack of Eve’s baby photos and dumped them on the floor in a pile of their own. For some reason, there were more photos of Eve than of all the rest of us combined.

Even as a baby, Eve demanded the spotlight.

June Bug concentrated, thrusting her tongue out of the side of her mouth. “Daddy doesn’t believe in the public education system and he says there are no good private schools in our town so Mommy home-schools me.”

She finished her drawing, a simple picture of a little girl holding hands with a red-headed, stick-figure woman. It made me smile.

“Don’t you want to go to school?” I said.

“Not really.”

“Don’t you want to make friends?”

“Mommy’s my friend.” June Bug placed all her Crayola’s back in their package, arranging them in order of color, just like her mother used to. “...And you’re my friend, too.”

“I see,” I said, continuing to sort through the latest box of pictures.

I wasn’t sure why Merry was bothering with the task. There were a million other ways she could spend her time, but she took her role as the ‘family keeper’ seriously. She liked to have things neat, laid out, and...preserved.

“Besides,” June Bug continued, putting her art supplies into the small purple tote beside her. “...When I get bigger, I am going to live with my daddy, anyways. He says there are nice schools in Daytona.”

My jaw hit my chin at the same time her art tote hit the coffee table. I was about to resume my questioning but she plodded upstairs.

Go live with her daddy? In Daytona?

Merry hadn’t mentioned a word about Frank being in Daytona. I knew children had big imaginations, but she was so matter-of-fact about it, I couldn’t believe it was all made up.

June Bug returned, wearing large, dark sunglasses and a bright yellow boa this time.

“How do I look?” she asked, pretending to flick a fake cigarette. It was scary how well she had my mother down, considering she had not grown up with her. DNA was a powerful thing.

“Just like your grandmother.”

She squealed. Apparently that was what she had been going for.

“June Bug,” I continued cautiously. “You said your daddy is in Daytona? Is he on a business trip?”

“No.” June Bug drew out the word as she uncoiled the boa from her neck and wrapped it around the banister. “He lives there with Missy.”

“Missy?”

“My second mom. She’s not as nice as my real mom, but...” June Bug shrugged and disappeared once again upstairs.

That son of a bitch!

I knew it! I knew he couldn’t stay away from little girls. I’ll bet the second Merry turned twenty-five he left for the first barely-legal, eighteen-year-old he could get his wrinkled hands on. I tightened my fists, trying to control my anger as lightning cracked outside.
 

How dare him?!

He was lucky he wasn’t here or I would...I wasn’t sure, but I would do something.

I put my hands on either side of my head, trying to remove the throbbing in my temple. Why hadn’t Merry mentioned this to us––to me––that her jerk face husband wasn’t in the picture anymore? No wonder my mother hadn’t trusted men. They weren’t worth trusting, not a one of them.

I was about call Merry and demand an explanation, when I noticed a picture lying on the top of the heap, one I hadn’t seen before. It was a photo of our mother standing next to a familiar-looking woman. The woman had a pleasant face and piercing green eyes and looked pregnant. They gazed intently into the camera, expressionless.

I turned over the photo and saw that the year was 1985.

I studied the picture, racking my brain, trying to remember where I had seen the woman. Then it dawned on me. It was Jillian, the woman I had met at Dip Stix the other day, the psychic-medium who had given me her card. She was about a quarter of a century younger in the photo, but it was her. At some point, she had known my mother.

I looked at the picture again.

There was nothing in the background to indicate where they were. Mother wore a large muumuu to cover up her own pregnancy, but otherwise the picture offered no clues. They had probably met at some natural childbirth class. Or a psychic fair.

I put the photo into my skirt pocket.

I would show it to Merry. She would know how Jillian knew our mother. Somehow, I felt it wasn’t sheer coincidence that Jillian had wandered into Dip Stix a few days ago.

My thoughts were broken by the loud slam of a door from upstairs.

“Aunt Maggie! Aunt Maggie! Help!”

Without having to be told, I knew that June Bug was in the nursery.
 

I wasn’t sure how I would make it up the stairs; they stood before me like Mount Everest, foreboding and insurmountable. I fought through my fear, willing my feet upwards, all the while wanting to turn back.

“Help!” June Bug called again as she pulled on the doorknob.

“I’m coming!” I propelled myself forward by holding onto the banister.
 

My feet felt heavy, like I was walking through mud. The lights overhead flickered uneasily. Finally I reached the top, staring into the dark hallway ahead. I could hear June Bug’s hands hammering on the nursery door, punctuated by small screams. I quickened my pace, flipping on the hallway light switch.

It didn’t come on.

When I reached the nursery, I noticed a vile energy emanating from beneath the door. It smelled like garbage and made me gag.
 

“I’m here,” I said, tugging and twisting on the knob, fighting back the urge to retch. “Don’t worry, honey.”

“Aunt Maggie!” she cried as something crashed into the door.

“Be brave.” I tried another light switch. No luck. “...And cover your head.”

“The floor’s starting to shake!” June Bug’s fingers clawed at the door.

I could feel the ripples at my feet.

“Stand back!” I ordered, realizing that I would have to break the door down to get inside. I backed up to the wall behind me. I paused, took three deep breaths, then rammed my body into the door. It cracked down the center with the impact but did not open.

June Bug screamed again.

“That was just me,” I said, rubbing my shoulder and backing up. “I’m gonna try again.”

“Hurry, Aunt Maggie!
Please
.”

I breathed through my nose, focusing on the thin crack that had formed with my last push. If I did this a few more times, I would break it down. I lowered my head like a bull and charged the door, closing my eyes as I hit.

Only I didn’t hit. I flew.
 

The door had flung itself open and I sailed past, tumbling into the middle of the room. My head hit something hard on the ground and I almost lost my breath. I turned, ready to grab June Bug and bolt out, but the door snapped shut behind me.

“Aunt Maggie!”
 

June Bug was on me, shielding me from flying objects with her small arms. Though it was dark inside, I could still make out the shadows of toys swirling around us in a mini cyclone. I picked her up and moved back towards the door, fighting through the flying debris.

We pulled on the doorknob together, but it still wouldn’t turn.

I ran my fingers over the door, searching for the crack, but it was smooth. I looked around for something big enough to use as a battering ram. Dodging objects, I felt my way to the nightstand in the far corner of the room. A hardcover book flew at me, hitting me in the eye.
 

Instinctively, I put both hands over my face to fight back the pain.

Fuck this.

“No!” I yelled into the dark. “No!”

The objects continued to swirl around me.

I stamped my foot, just as I had done as a kid. “No!”

The quivering floor now erupted into heavy waves which popped nails from the floorboards, sending them flying like shrapnel. I could see June Bug crawling for cover behind the large dollhouse. I caught the shadow of another book flying at me, and I managed to catch it, ripping it out of the air.

I flung it back against the opposite wall and it crashed, falling like a dead bird.
 

“NO!” I repeated with more force.

“Aunt Maggie, something’s on me!” June Bug shouted and I ran to her.

The whirlwind of toys intensified, picking up more objects as it whipped around us. I shielded her with my body, pulling her with me to the door to try again.

It was still locked.
 

I was angry, so fucking angry. How dare it trap us in here like animals in a zoo?